


Tempest

by merlypops



Series: too many war wounds and not enough wars [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Almost Kiss, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Anxiety, Bad Parenting, Birthday, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Broken Families, Bulimia, Car Accidents, Cheating, Child Abandonment, Child Neglect, Choking, Coma, Come Eating, Coming Out, Denial of Feelings, Depression, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Domestic Violence, Drunken Kissing, Dubious Consent, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Family Issues, First Kiss, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Heart Attacks, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hospitalization, Hospitals, House Party, I guess you would call it that, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mildly Dubious Consent, Morning Sex, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Outdoor Sex, Panic Attacks, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Semi-Public Sex, Sexuality Crisis, Shame, Smoking, Song Lyrics, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Teen Angst, Undecided Relationship(s), Under-negotiated Kink, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, but only a tiny bit so it's okay, suicidal Calum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 125
Words: 314,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3658536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlypops/pseuds/merlypops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>You’ve got me feeling strange,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>‘Cause I love to hate you so damn much,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>But I can’t think of leaving,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>‘Cause you’re what keeps me breathing.</i>
</p><p>'Calum pointedly didn’t look at Michael’s emerald green eyes or the soft curve of his cherry-coloured lips. He didn’t think about how looking at Michael these days made his <i>heart</i> clench in his chest because, if Calum <i>did</i> let himself consider that, everything that he’d fought so hard to believe would crumble around him.'</p><p>
  <b>Calum's best friends are falling apart, Mali is gone, and Calum just wants to be perfect.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Defiance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucashemwow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucashemwow/gifts), [everlastingcontrast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/everlastingcontrast/gifts).



> because my friends are always so supportive and I love them, and I think it's their turn to have a fic gifted to them. <3
> 
> **Spoiler Alert: This fic has a LOT of spoilers for Maelstrom in so personally I would read that first.**
> 
> After you all enjoyed Maelstrom so much, I thought retelling the story from Calum's PoV could be interesting and you all seemed to like that idea so I only hope I'll do it justice!  
> The song for this fic is Bad Dreams which I have been listening to a _lot_.  
>  I hope there'll still be plenty of twists in this fic so it's not too predictable because I really hate it when retellings of fics are like that so I hope I won't fall into the same trap!  
> Anyway, there's only one more thing to say now and that is that I really hope you'll all enjoy this <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“Does anyone_ else _have a problem with Mike liking guys?” Calum asked quietly, trying to pretend that_ he _didn’t have a problem with it… trying to convince himself that_ he _didn’t like guys too._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't actually planning to write this chapter yet - I was just going to plan - but this kind of wrote itself.  
> I hope it doesn't suck!  
> Enjoy :)

**_I need a little room to breathe,_ **

**_You’re making this hard for me,_ **

**_When all I need is to be set free._ **

_\- Room To Breathe, You Me At Six_

 

Calum was _shaking_ with anger.

They’d just had an hour long football practice in the rain and everyone was covered in mud, but they were all in relatively high spirits because Calum’s best friend Ashton had made some pretty great saves today so they were quite confident about their upcoming matches.

Ashton was sad and quiet but, when Calum had told him how well he’d done, Ashton’s whole face had lit up and he’d giggled like he used to when they were kids, back before he looked so _empty_ all the time.

That thought made Calum shake too but for a different reason, and it wasn’t the one making his face twist with fury now, because thinking about how _Ashton_ was these days made Calum feel _terrified_ , not angry.

No, the reason he felt like he wanted to smash something to pieces was because the people at his school were _dicks_ and Calum couldn’t control his _fucking_ temper when something hit too close to home.

All the dark-haired boy had wanted was to get in the shower, get changed into his clean clothes, and go home to play some video games and eat dinner before he did his homework.

That wasn’t going to happen now though, because his other best friend Michael had wandered into the changing room with them too, chatting to Ashton softly as he sat down on the bench and wrapped his arms around himself, apparently cold from where he’d been watching them play from the stands.

Michael’s hair was dyed a vivid crimson and his eyebrow piercing glinted dark in the dim lights of the changing room as he huddled up in an oversized black hoody. He looked surprisingly _soft_ and Calum had shuddered, picking his towel up from the bench as he turned away, heading for the showers.

Calum had been halfway there before one of the guys on his team had noticed Michael sitting there minding his own business and let out a scornful laugh.

“Oh look, Clifford’s back to gawp at more shirtless athletes.”

“Fuck off,” Michael mumbled, his voice bitter, and Calum stopped walking, turning slowly to glare at Charlie Barker, the player who had spoken. Ashton was silent now but his breathing was rapid as he watched the tension unfold with wide eyes, and Michael just looked faintly _sick_.

“What the fuck did you just say, Barker?” Calum asked softly and the changing room was _silent_ now.

Barker swallowed, defiance flashing in his eyes as he strode forwards a few steps, closing the distance between them as he brushed his black hair out of his face impatiently. He pointed a shaking finger in Michael’s direction and Calum was pleased to be over six foot tall because it made looming over this bastard _easy_.

“I don’t understand why this fucking _fag_ has to come into the changing room with us when we’re getting ready!” Barker snapped and Calum saw red.

His fist connected with Barker’s face and the black-haired boy fell backwards onto the dirty floor, clutching his bloody nose as he hit the ground with a pained grunt.

Calum tried to ignore everyone’s eyes on him because it was making him uncomfortable and… and all he’d _wanted_ was a damn shower, and this wasn’t fucking _fair_.

“You’re off the team,” Calum said, fighting to keep his voice cold rather than panicky, and Barker hissed in shock, glaring up at Calum with blood trickling sluggishly down his face and fury in his eyes.

“You can’t do this! I – You’re choosing that _fag_ over me?!” Barker demanded and Calum’s hands fastened in his collar, hauling the boy too-hard to his feet.

“Yes, I am,” Calum said and he shook Barker, trying in vain to shake some fucking _sense_ into him. “I’m the captain and I’ll do what I want. Now get out of here before I hit you again.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Calum saw Michael squeezing Ashton’s shoulder gently, clearly trying to keep the smaller boy calm, even as he shuddered himself.

Calum saw the concern and the poorly-hidden _pain_ in Michael’s eyes, and Calum had to force himself to let Barker go before he did something _really_ stupid that would land him in the principal’s office.

Barker scrabbled out of the room and one of his friends followed him, shooting Calum what could _almost_ be described as a fearful look over his shoulder.

“Don’t bother coming back either!” Calum shouted before he took a deep breath, fighting for a calm that he didn’t feel.

The silence in the changing room was _painful_ now and all Calum could hear was the steady _drip-drip-dripping_ of the leaking showers. The sound was putting him on edge.

“Does anyone _else_ have a problem with Mike liking guys?” Calum asked quietly, trying to pretend that _he_ didn’t have a problem with it… trying to convince himself that _he_ didn’t like guys too.

He wasn’t having much luck.

“Because if you _do_ ,” Calum continued and his voice was strained now as he shivered. “You can leave now too.”

Michael’s skin was ashen and he looked nauseous as he stood there, gripping Ashton’s shoulder gently as he tried to hold himself up.

Calum pointedly didn’t look at Michael’s emerald green eyes or the soft curve of his cherry-coloured lips. He didn’t think about how looking at Michael these days made his _heart_ clench in his chest because, if Calum _did_ let himself consider that, everything that he’d fought so hard to believe would crumble around him.

“ _Good_ ,” Calum said bitterly when no one else left.

Michael slumped down onto the bench, sighing heavily as he dropped his head into his hands. Ashton was trembling as he sat down beside Michael, slipping his arm around the red-haired boy’s shoulders as he bit down hard on his bottom lip. Calum exhaled shakily, hanging his head as everyone slowly started to talk and continue getting changed again.

“Are you okay?” Calum asked Michael softly and the red-haired boy looked up at him, his expression a curious mixture of anger and gratitude coupled with a surprising amount of _fondness_ , and Calum shuddered, suddenly fighting to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“I’m alright, Cal,” Michael said heavily but his shoulders were still slumped, like the situation had aged him or something. “Go and shower. You’re covered in mud.”

Calum’s lips twitched weakly and he wondered how Michael knew him so well, wondered how the older boy _knew_ that Calum needed to get out right this second, before he lost it and started fucking _crying_ or something equally humiliating.

Calum half-ran to the shower, fighting against the fear and panic he could feel bubbling alongside the self-disgust that festered inside of him, but when Calum tipped his head back under the spray and let the lukewarm water run down his face like tears, his breathing gradually became ragged as he fought not to cry. When Calum felt Michael’s green eyes on him as he got dressed quickly afterwards, the tear that slipped down the younger boy's cheek when his heart fluttered in his chest almost gave him away.

Calum fought to ignore his best friend’s gaze, struggled to ignore how it made his blood thunder in his veins because he _liked_ Michael looking at him kind of, and it made bile rise in Calum’s throat as he wrestled his way into his jumper, half-blind with tears now.

Calum had never hated anyone more than he hated himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading - please let me know what you thought!  
> It actually makes me so upset to go back to writing the characters so sad now when i just made them happy again :( <3


	2. Perfect On Paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum was afraid of different things now, like letting down his parents or his sister or his friends, or failing his exams at school. He was afraid of losing his position as captain on the football team or what would happen if anyone_ ever _found out that he liked his best friend Michael in the same way he liked girls._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update took me so long to write. I've literally had zero motivation but I sat down about an hour ago and this update just kind of happened so... you know... hopefully it doesn't totally suck...  
> I just want to make this story good for you guys <3

**_Now you're walkin' back,_ **

**_To a place you call home,_ **

**_But you feel so alone._ **

_\- If You Knew, Joel Faviere_

Calum’s heart felt as heavy as lead in his chest when he walked up his driveway.

The Hood family were wealthy – that much was evident by the shiny car in the driveway and the expensive flowers in impeccably neat flowerbeds that hinted at money.

The Hoods were affluent, well-thought-of, and **frightened**.

David was scared that the neighbours would judge them and talk about them behind their backs, just like _he_ did to everyone else on the street.

Joy was frightened of the prospect of her children making her look bad, but she was even _more_ worried about what other people thought of her. She was constantly dieting, and buying new expensive clothes and having her hair re-dyed so that she looked the part.

Calum’s older sister Mali-Koa was afraid of being trapped in Sydney forever. She was scared of ending up with a bland, _average_ life like her parents, and that was the fear that kept her up at night. It was the thing that terrified her most, the worries that she confessed to Calum in the long hours before the sun rose in the morning, when neither of them could sleep.

Calum was frightened too, but it wasn’t the same as it had been once upon a time.

Back when he was a kid, he’d been scared of drop bears and crocodiles and the darkness. He’d been frightened of too much toothpaste coming out of the tube and of sleeping away from home for more than one night, and he’d been even _more_ afraid of talking to other people at school, at least until he met his best friend Michael who helped Calum and Ashton come out of their shells.

Calum was afraid of different things now, like letting down his parents or his sister or his friends, or failing his exams at school. He was afraid of losing his position as captain on the football team or what would happen if anyone _ever_ found out that he liked his best friend Michael in the same way he liked girls.

Calum was afraid of what his parents would say if they ever learnt that truth, was frightened that they’d really and truly lose faith in him then, because they might be _disappointed_ in him now – Mali was beautiful and he was average at best, and she’d always done a lot better at school too although Calum had tried much, _much_ harder – but his parents still _cared_ about him…

Except… maybe they _didn’t_.

Maybe they only cared about his grades instead. Maybe they only cared about how he made them _look_ …

Maybe they just wanted him to look perfect on paper and, when that realisation struck Calum, he had to fight to swallow past the lump in his throat as he opened the front door with shaking hands.

Calum’s mum was in the kitchen when he got in and he heard the whir of the blender as he stowed his shoes carefully on the rack by the door before heading towards the cupboard under the stairs. He deposited his backpack in on the shelf there where he was supposed to put his things to keep them tidy. Everything had to be in the correct place in the Hood's household.

“Hey, mum,” Calum said softly as he padded into the vast kitchen in his socks. He sat down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, folding his arms on the gleaming surface and resting his chin on them as Joy poured a thick, unappetising-looking green liquid into a glass. It looked unpleasant and she wrinkled her nose as she took a sip.

“What’s that?” Calum asked wearily, glancing down and biting his lip when he saw how red his knuckles were from where he’d punched Charlie in the face. Frowning, Calum hid his hand beneath the table and rested his cheek on the cool surface.

Joy looked over distractedly and sighed.

“Sit up straight, Calum,” she said as she set the glass carefully on the counter and carried the jug of the blender over to the sink so that she could wash it up. She wriggled her hands carefully into a pair of pink marigold gloves to protect her manicured nails but her dark eyes were critical as she looked at him in the reflection of the window. “You’ll wrinkle your jumper if you stay in that position.”

“Right,” Calum said slowly, straightening up and frowning down at his fingers instead as he twisted them in his lap. “Sorry.”

Joy didn’t comment but she seemed to remember that her only son had asked her a question because she shot the smoothie on the counter an apprehensive look.

“That’s my supper tonight,” she said and her painted lips twisted as she set the jug in the drying rack carefully before removing the gloves. “It’s made from spinach and broccoli.”

“Nice.”

Calum looked away, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes at that because Joy _hated_ it. She said it made him look unintelligent and Calum didn’t particularly want to piss his mother off over such a small thing so he managed to restrain himself.

“Is this another diet then?” he asked after a few moments, glancing towards the clock and sighing when he saw that it wasn’t even five o’clock yet. He wondered if he could get away with disappearing up to his room for the evening soon.

Probably _not_ since his dad wasn’t home from work yet.

“I found this one in Cosmo so I have more faith in it than the last one,” Joy said confidently, patting her flat stomach and shooting it a disappointed look. “I’ll be back in shape in no time.”

“You’re in shape _now_ ,” Calum muttered, just like he _always_ did, but this was more habit than opinion these days.

Joy was always on _some_ sort of diet – Calum had grown up watching her eating what his dad called “rabbit food” and complaining about the calorie intake in the sweets Calum shared with his sister – and he knew his mum had expected him to say that, just like Calum expected _her_ to say: “Nonsense. I have a long way to go before _that_.”

Calum sighed, shaking his head ruefully and ignoring the way she tutted at him as he rubbed idly at a mark on the counter with his fingertip. Joy rushed over with a cloth and some disinfectant to tidy it, and Calum sighed again, sitting back in the stool and spinning round on it so that he could see out of the other window that looked out over their front garden.

Mali was walking up the path with her bag slung over her shoulder. Her long, dark hair was scraped back into a ponytail and her cheeks were flushed like she’d been working out. Calum glanced at the polo shirt she was wearing and recognised it as the one that all Kings students had to wear for PE classes.

Mali had already graduated from the private school she had attended so he guessed that she had returned to the school to teach some more dance classes to the younger students again. Calum knew that had made their parents happy because it painted the family in a better light but Calum couldn’t help but feel that – by the disheartened look on his older sister’s face – she didn’t even look like she _wanted_ to be doing that.

He couldn’t blame her.

He knew that, the very _moment_ he was old enough, he would be leaving school and never going back. He _hated_ it there – the only parts he even _liked_ were football and seeing his two best friends – and, in Calum’s opinion, the sooner he could get a job and move out, the better off he would be.

Mali let herself in, kicking her shoes off in the hall and appearing in the doorway in her socks, looking sweaty and pissed off.

“I’m sick of trying to teach those kids to dance,” she said hotly, folding her arms across her chest and looking supremely irritated as Joy sighed deeply at her daughter. “There’s literally this _one_ blond kid who’s really, _really_ good at dancing… and the rest are just shit.”

“Language, Mali-Koa!” Joy admonished, glancing towards the open kitchen window warily before she turned back. “Leave your PE uniform by the washing machine in the laundry room please. I’ll get that ready for tomorrow.”

“I won’t need it,” Mali said, rolling her eyes before she caught Calum’s gaze for a moment. Her lips twitched and he watched his older sister with growing apprehension, worried that he knew where this was going. “I’m not going back.”

“Don’t even _think_ about running off again, young lady!” Joy said but her reprimand fell on deaf ears because her daughter had already turned away, hopping up onto the stool beside Calum.

“Hey, squirt,” Mali said, ruffling Calum’s dark hair and looking satisfied when he gave her a weak smile. Her eyes narrowed slightly when they drifted down to his sore knuckles, cradled as they were in his lap, but she didn’t say anything and Calum was grateful for that. “Good day?” she asked carefully.

Calum snorted.

“It was interesting, I’ll give it that,” he muttered but he shook his head when she looked at him curiously. “Just forget it.”

“Don’t talk to your sister like that,” Joy said disapprovingly and Calum’s shoulders slumped, even as Mali glared at her mother’s retreating back.

“I’ve got to go shower,” Mali said after a few moments of awkward silence, during which Joy put something in the oven and Calum’s knuckles gave a weak throb. “See you later, Cally.”

Joy looked over at Mali as the nineteen year old disappeared upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

“The Kings uniform is a _lot_ nicer than that awful one you have at _your_ school,” Joy muttered as she turned to Calum with a disapproving look on her face. “And that reminds me actually – when are you going to bring your football kit home so I can wash it?”

“I forgot it again. Sorry,” Calum muttered, uninclined to elaborate because she might find out that he’d punched one of his team in the face so hard that he’d most likely broken their nose, and he didn’t think _that_ would go down particularly well with her either.

“For goodness _sake_ , Calum,” Joy said sharply, her tone harsher than it _ever_ was when they were with someone outside of their little family. “Why can’t you ever do _anything_ right?!”

Calum’s shoulders slumped further and his eyes stung at the unfairness of it all.

He didn’t argue though because, at this point, he knew it would do no _good_.

Calum was used to it by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please let me know what you thought :)  
> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> P.S. Three guesses for who the blond kid is...


	3. Storm Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _The dark-haired boy ran upstairs, well aware that he was going to get told off later but uncaring right now because his anxiety was almost_ suffocating _him by this point and his hand was throbbing and he just wanted_ Mali _._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This made me sad to write. Sorry.

**_When I go flying off the edge,_ **

**_You go flying off as well._ **

_\- Something I Need, OneRepublic_

 

Calum had been home from school for almost three hours now but he was still just as stressed as he had been when he'd staggered in that afternoon with hopeless tears dampening his chocolate brown eyes.

Calum picked at his dinner, chasing the peas around his plate with his fork as his parents discussed their days at work in voices that were _so_ forced in their cheeriness that they sounded brittle almost, like they were about to shatter into a thousand pieces and reveal all of the lies and deception buried underneath.

Calum had felt hungry earlier but looking at the food on his plate now just made his stomach churn with nerves and anxiety, and he didn’t think eating his dinner would be a very good idea when he felt quite a lot like the knot in his stomach was about to make him sick.

“Calum, why aren’t you eating your salmon?” Joy asked from across the table, frowning at her son before her eyes flickered down to the fish he had shredded on his plate with his cutlery, looking at the food  _longingly_ almost, like her disgusting smoothie hadn’t quite hit the spot earlier.

“I’m just not hungry,” Calum said softly and his dad looked up, his expression one of equal parts irritation and forced amusement. Calum wondered who he was pretending for.

“Your mother’s cooked you that meal so that you can lead a healthier lifestyle, like your mother's trying to do,” David reprimanded, managing not to sneer although it didn’t look particularly easy for him. “Just be grateful and eat your damn food, boy.”

“ _David_ ,” Joy said reprovingly but she still simpered at her husband when he looked up at her apologetically.

They started talking again, complaining about something that had happened in the office Joy worked as a receptionist at, and Calum’s hands were trembling when he let his cutlery fall onto his plate through numb fingers.

Joy and David both looked up sharply at the clatter, frowning disapprovingly, and Calum rose shakily.

“I’m not hungry,” he repeated because his anxiousness was making him feel _sick_ now and he couldn’t stand just sitting here, trying to pretend that everything was normal while his knuckles throbbed and Michael’s pale, anguished face swam before his eyes.

“Calum, just sit back down and stop misbehaving!" David said sharply. "Is this because you've been hanging around with that nasty pair at school again? I _knew_ you being friends with them was a bad –”

The dark-haired boy ran upstairs, well aware that he was going to get told off later but uncaring right now because his anxiety was almost _suffocating_ him by this point and his hand was throbbing and he just wanted _Mali._

He knocked on his older sister’s door timidly when he reached the top of the stairs, shifting restlessly from foot to foot on the dark landing as he heard his parents quiet voices downstairs. Calum fought to ignore them as they muttered about how Michael and Ashton were bad influences, and how he should really make friends with _nicer_ people, and Calum had never been more grateful for a distraction when Mali’s door cracked open as she peered through the gap.

His older sister relaxed when she saw who it was, opening the door wider and pulling Calum in by the hand before she shut it quickly behind them.

“Again?” Calum asked softly when he looked around the room and there was a lump in his throat now too, on top of everything else, and it was doing its best to choke the air out of his lungs.

Mali’s battered old suitcase was open on the bed, full to the brim with her clothes and possessions. Her face was flushed red and her mascara was smudged beneath her eyes. Calum counted four screwed-up tissues littering her purposefully-messy carpet as she flung another armload of clothing into her suitcase before she tried to zip it up.

There was too much inside though and she hadn’t folded it properly so she couldn’t get it shut, and when a defeated sob clawed its way out of Mali as she sank down into her desk chair, Calum fought to ignore his own feelings as he helped her do the case up.

“Thank you,” Mali murmured tearfully, rising to lug the bag off of her bed with teary-eyed determination. “I’m sorry.”

Calum wrapped his arms around her neck gently and pulled her into a hug, praying silently that she would be back in a few days like she had been last time.

“I understand,” Calum breathed and she held him tighter, burying her face in his neck as she stroked his hair gently, soothingly, like she could tell how hard he was trying not to fall apart.

Calum’s tears boiled over and he kind of _hated_ himself for being so weak.

He wished he was more like Mali.

When life got to be too much for her and their parents wouldn’t give her enough space to think, she simply packed a bag and ran away. Sometimes she stayed with friends and sometimes she squandered money from her savings account on hotels, but she never came back before she was ready to and Calum respected her for that, even if he _did_ wish that she wouldn’t leave him all alone here.

More than anything though, Calum wished he could go _with_ her.

He wished _he_ had the freedom to just drop everything and run away.

Calum didn’t though. He knew he could never be that lucky – even as his parents gave Mali more and more freedom, Calum’s chain shortened because of it, until he was barely free to do _anything_ without their permission.

The weight of their expectations was crushing.

Calum could feel it.

It was a little bit like the ocean eroding a cliff. At first, the progress was very small, just chipping off bits of rock here and there, but then the salty water ate deep enough and the rocks were crumbling down into the hungry ocean, leaving nothing but sharp shards of rock behind that should never have been exposed to the elements.

Calum could see it in Mali’s eyes too, saw it in the tears shining there and the mascara smudged like black ink over the bruise-like circles under her eyes.

Mali was still beautiful, Calum thought, but she wasn’t _happy_ unless she was away from the storm cloud brewing over their perfect house, and Calum wanted his big sister to be happy more than he wanted _anything_. That had **always** been the case.

When Mali kissed Calum gently on the cheek before she stumbled down the stairs with her suitcase as she started to shout at their parents, Calum felt a tear roll down his cheek as he stood there, alone in Mali’s pretty, pink, toy-filled room.

When the headlights of her car danced across the ceiling as she pulled out onto the road and screeched away, Calum felt something wither inside of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought <3  
> Thank you for reading :)


	4. Crescendo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum felt like that sometimes, felt like everything he fought so_ hard _to be was slowly being torn away from him like dry autumn leaves carried off on an icy wind._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are spoilers in this chapter for the film "Black Swan" - just a heads up.  
> Also this is really really angsty and I'm sorry for that, wow.

**_Been trying hard not to get into trouble,_ **

**_But I – I've got a war in my mind._ **

_\- Ride, Lana Del Rey_

Calum stood frozen in Mali’s bedroom for a long time, the only sounds his parents’ raised voices downstairs and his own ragged breathing as it tore out of his hollow lungs.

Mali’s carpet was soft on Calum’s knees when he sank down onto the floor and it was even _softer_ pressed against his cheek. It smelt like hairspray and perfume and what _might_ have been spilt coffee, and Calum’s heart ached in his chest as he lay there, holding his breath when he heard crockery being flung too-hard into the sink downstairs, like his father had lost his temper again.

Calum could see under Mali’s bed from here and, tucked between the crates of books and the stuffed toys that were not deemed worthy enough to clutter her bed, Calum spotted a DVD that he had been looking for a few months ago when Michael had asked Calum to lend him the film because he wanted to watch something new with Mila Kunis in.

Calum ignored the pang in his chest at that memory as he reached out shakily, extracting the Black Swan DVD from the mess and rolling over onto his back so that he could look at the cover properly, taking in Natalie Portman’s face, flawless except for the crack splintering her masklike expression.

Calum felt like that sometimes, felt like everything he fought so _hard_ to be was slowly being torn away from him like dry autumn leaves carried off on an icy wind.

He read the back cover of the DVD and bit down hard on his bottom lip as his heart ached again, fighting against the bitter tears welling up inside him, caused mostly because he and Mali used to watch this film a _lot_ a few years back, although it probably wasn’t exactly suitable, at least in their parents’ opinion.

Calum and Mali hadn’t cared though.

They’d loved it, loved the dancing and the drama and the suspense of it all, and the added thrill of knowing that their parents would have been angry at them had only made the film more exciting at the time.

Mali liked watching the dances the ballerinas in the film did – Mali had done ballet once too but Calum had never got the chance. His dad had made him do football instead and, as it turned out, Calum was actually quite _good_ at it. That didn’t mean he didn’t regret not getting to dance though.

Frowning, Calum got to his feet and – fighting to ignore the anxious churning of his stomach – he carried the film back into his room, being careful to stay silent so that his parents wouldn’t have a reason to shout up the stairs at him.

He shut the door softly behind him and pulled the curtains shut roughly so that his bedroom was plunged into semi-darkness. The shadows stretched across the walls like ink now and the early evening moonlight filtering through his curtains was a watery silver colour against the dull wallpaper that Joy had picked out.

Calum put the DVD into his laptop before he struggled out of his school uniform, leaving his clothes folded neatly on his desk chair before he stepped into the shorts and t-shirt he wore to sleep in.

His tanned skin looked dark in the gloomy room as he glanced towards his reflection in the mirror and his eyes were too bright in his tired face. Calum looked away, shuddering as the hairs on the back of his neck rose, and he was more than happy to wriggle down beneath his duvet as he propped his laptop open in front of him, keen to leave the worries of the day behind him.

Calum’s stomach rumbled as he lay there, clearly complaining about its lack of dinner, and Calum felt something like fear clawing icily in his chest as he considered going downstairs to find food now. His parents would be _furious_ with him, especially after the way he had behaved earlier by wasting his food and storming away from the table.

He would have to go hungry tonight it seemed.

Calum glared down at himself as he waited for the film’s menu to appear, pinching the skin of his stomach subtly and frowning at the pain that caused, even as he rubbed his palm across the tanned skin too-hard, trying to stop it stinging.

He wondered if he needed to cut out eating snacks so that he could stay in shape for football. He knew a couple of the guys on the team were trying to lose a few pounds and, as the team captain, Calum _should_ set a good example probably.

Maybe it was a _good_ thing he’d skipped eating dinner that day.

The menu appeared and Calum hit play, forcing himself to concentrate as the film began.

Black Swan was all about a ballerina called Nina whose passion for dance overruled every other aspect of her life, and Calum could _definitely_ identify with that because it was how he felt now, trying so hard to please his parents that everything else fell by the wayside.

When it got to the part where the company’s artistic director decided to replace his prima ballerina for their opening production of “Swan Lake” and Nina was his first choice, Calum found himself sitting up and wrapping his duvet around himself so that he was closer to the screen, even though he’d seen the film hundreds of times before.

He loved it a little more every time he watched it though and it kind of _hurt_ , especially because he knew what was coming.

When another ballerina called Lily was introduced, Calum found it harder to concentrate because looking at Mila Kunis reminded him of the comment Michael had made, and now all Calum could see was dyed red hair and sharp emerald green eyes instead of dancing and Nina’s nails clawing at her own skin as she drew blood.

The sky darkened further outside and, as the shadows stretched across the wall, Calum soon found himself engrossed in the film again, watching as the plot unfolded and the two dancers – each perfect for the role of the Swan Queen in different ways – left their rivalry behind to become twisted friends instead.

The film made Calum cry just like it _always_ did but, watching it alone now, he felt lonelier than he had done in a long time and it set something burning inside him as he watched Nina’s dark side begin to emerge.

As the ballerina’s life spiralled out of control and she lost her grip on reality – thus becoming the _perfect_ Black Swan as well as the White – Calum felt his heart clenching in his chest as Nina’s dancing grew wilder and her fragile sanity fractured like glass.

As the last dance played out across the screen, Calum’s trembling hands gripped the duvet tightly and his thoughts began to spiral out of control, in time with Nina’s desperate pirouettes as the music built to a crescendo.

Calum thought about his mum dieting and his dad trying _so_ hard to make sure that they all behaved the way they were expected to. Calum thought about Mali’s mascara running down her face and the helpless desperation in Ashton’s eyes. He thought about Charlie’s bloody face and Michael’s gleaming emerald eyes and the countless diets his mother went on in an effort to get back into shape, and when the Swan Queen fell to the floor and stared up at the ceiling as her lifeblood pumped out of her, Calum’s own heart clenched like it was _him_ bleeding out on the floor instead of Nina.

His head was spinning and his heart was thundering in his chest and, when the dying Swan Queen breathed out: “ **I felt it. Perfect. I was perfect** ”, Calum realised that _he_ wanted to be perfect too.

Then maybe his parents would finally be proud of him like they were proud of Mali, no matter _how_ many times she ran away, leaving without a word, while Calum stayed at home and tried his hardest and always, _always_ came second-best.

Maybe then they’d love Calum too like he _thought_ his parents had done once.

That was it.

He _finally_ knew what he needed to do.

‘ _Perfect_ ,’ Calum thought and the tears in his eyes were hot as his nails bit into the soft skin of his stomach again. ‘ _I need to be **perfect**._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was okay!  
> I feel like the worst person in the world for writing this fic and also there was foreshadowing in this update - quite a lot actually oops - and wow I'm so so so incredibly sorry oh my god calum i love you i promise O_o


	5. Indigo Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _He wanted to_ kiss _ **Calum** and… and Calum was _ straight _and Michael had known him since they were about five or something and -_  
>  _This couldn’t end well._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS FIC IS ALREADY RUNNING AWAY FROM ME WTH

_**I'd give up forever to touch you,**_

_**'Cause I know that you feel me somehow.** _

_**You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be,** _

_**And I don't wanna go home right now.** _

_\- Iris, Goo Goo Dolls_

Michael wished he and his friends had more of a social life.

Right now it was Friday night and he was alone in his bedroom, and he _had_ been trying to decide if he would rather play Fifa or masturbate, but it had just occurred to him that he lived a few doors down from one of his life-long best friends who didn’t have plans either so he didn’t _really_ have an excuse for not doing anything.

Michael eased his mobile phone out of the pocket of the black skinny jeans he wore to school - and it had taken almost two years but the teachers had _finally_ stopped calling him out on it - and typed out a message to Calum.

**[To CAL] Sent at 20:48**

**I’m bored. Meet me on the corner and we can go to the park or something. Your turn to bring the booze. x**

Michael waited until the dark-haired boy had responded - and if that took a little longer than usual, he thought nothing of it - before he tugged a hooded jacket on over his messy red hair and bent to lace his scuffed combat boots up.

They were loud on the wooden stairs and he stumbled a bit as he hurried down them, wincing at the scuff mark he left behind on the varnished wood before he remembered that everyone else was out so he couldn’t be blamed for this.

His keys jangled as he stowed them away in his back pocket once the front door was locked behind him and he took a deep breath, savouring the cool air as the late summer blossoms growing on a nearby tree swayed in a light breeze.

Calum was waiting for Michael at the end of the road, leaning casually against a lamp post in a black and grey striped sweatshirt over torn skinny jeans. The glow of the streetlight looked kind of like a halo the closer Michael got, made Calum look like an _angel_ sort of and -

Jesus fucking Christ, Michael had no chill.

Calum did _not_ look like an angel and Michael most definitely _wasn’t_ thinking disgusting, sugary sweet things about his best friend because… because really, being poetic like this was definitely _not_ punk rock or cool - unless Michael wrote poems about something violent… would that be punk rock or even _more_ lame and -

Okay, Michael knew when to stop following a line of thought.

“Hey, Cal!” he called instead, smirking when Calum waved awkwardly, holding a brown paper bag in the other hand. “What’s in the sack?”

Michael laughed at the word sack, just because, but his curiosity must have been evident on his face because Calum smiled weakly, punching the older boy lightly on the shoulder as he fell into step beside him.

“It’s whiskey,” Calum said, pulling a face when Michael cringed, because he totally hadn’t forgotten how shitty he’d felt the _last_ time he’d got pissed with Calum. “You don’t have to down the whole fucking bottle this time though, Mikey.”

“Where’d you get it anyway?” Michael asked, ignoring Calum’s dig as he took the bag from his best friend and withdrew the bottle, squinting at the label in the semi-darkness before he gave up. “Nick it from your parents?”

Calum made a small choking noise and Michael looked up, grinning at him.

“I bet you did,” Michael said, even though he thought nothing of the sort.

“I didn’t!” Calum protested as the pair of them walked along beneath the streetlights, occasionally glancing up as the first stars began to blink into existence in the indigo sky. “I stole it from Mali because she owes me.”

“Your sister drinks whiskey. That’s hilarious,” Michael laughed as they crossed the road. “It’s not really a _girly_ drink, is it?”

Calum elbowed Michael so hard he tripped over his boots.

“That’s sexist!” the younger boy yelled before he suddenly went bright red at what could only be described as a ‘ _Duh_ ’ look on Michael’s face.

“It was indeed, Calum,” the older boy said loftily, trying to pretend he was wise but ruining it somewhat when he tripped over his own feet again. “I’ve taught you well.”

“ _Mali_ taught me well,” Calum corrected, scowling as he snatched the bottle of whiskey back from Michael. “Now c’mon,” Calum mumbled, suddenly downcast as he sped up a little bit. “We’re almost there.”

Michael bit his lip, watching as the dark-haired boy walked on ahead. His jeans were clinging to his thighs and he looked good but Michael was barely even thinking about that.

“Cal?” he asked softly, shivering a little bit when a cold breeze blew, sending dried leaves scattering over the paved path that stretched through the park. “Calum?”

The dark-haired boy stopped walking, wrapping one arm around himself as he let his head hang. Michael had pulled the younger boy into a hug before he’d even stopped to consider it and, although Calum tensed up at first, he quickly melted into the touch.

“Mali left again, mate?” Michael asked softly and Calum’s dark fluffy hair was soft when it brushed the older boy’s chin as the football captain nodded.

“Yeah,” Calum said softly, pulling away and dropping his hands down to his sides so that he wasn’t being hugged anymore. Michael tangled their fingers together and, although the younger boy seemed surprised, he didn’t pull away.

“Let’s go over there,” Michael said, pointing towards a large, gnarled apple tree that was so overgrown that it was engulfing the rusty metal of the fence that enclosed the park. The leaves were a dark jade and the apples were still tiny, not yet ready to eat.

Michael stretched out on his back in the long grass and Calum shivered at the cool breeze, curling up beside Michael and resting his head in the crook of the older boy’s neck. Michael’s red hair danced in the wind and Michael gave Calum a little squeeze, ignoring the whiskey for now.

“You okay, Cal?” he asked carefully and the dark-haired boy shrugged, clearly mulling that over. Michael wondered if Calum’s knuckles still hurt.

“Being sixteen _sucks_ ,” the dark-haired boy sighed, letting his head loll to the side so that he could see Michael’s face properly. Calum looked lost when he found Michael gazing back down at him but the younger boy’s chocolate brown eyes were sparkling in the darkness and -

 _Fuck_.

Michael wanted to kiss him.

He wanted to _kiss_ **Calum** and… and Calum was _straight_ and Michael had known him since they were about five or something and -

This couldn’t end well.

“What are you looking at?” Calum breathed, his fingertips cool as they fluttered over Michael’s cheek -

And Michael didn’t even like that. He wasn’t even in love with his best friend so shut the fuck up because, like, what the hell would be the point in -

Yeah, okay, maybe Michael _was_ in love with Calum.

Whatever.

That didn’t mean he was going to do anything about it though because Michael definitely _didn’t_ want to be **That Guy**. Or was he already like that because he was even _thinking_ about this?

Damnit, Michael should have just stayed at home and jerked off.

“Mikey?” Calum prompted softly, shivering as the breeze picked up and the paper bag rustled in his delicate hands and - really, did Michael just think _delicate_?!

God, he needed someone to come and punch him in the face or something.

Maybe Calum would do it. Looking at the state of Charlie’s face after Calum’s right hook, he seemed to have a mean swing and -

Oh god, Calum had punched someone in the face for Michael and he was in love with him, and he kind of wanted to just run home now and reevaluate his entire life (after masturbating) but he couldn’t just leave Calum lying alone in the park, looking all sad and worryingly quiet.

Not when Michael _loved_ him.

“I want -”

Michael faltered, biting his bottom lip harder as he frowned up at the sky.

It was even darker now, closer to black than indigo, and the stars were out in full force tonight.

“ _What_ do you want, Mikey?” Calum murmured and Michael’s smile was weak.

He wanted to live with his uncle.

He wanted to it to be sunny tomorrow.

He wanted a new guitar.

He wanted to wriggle out of his skin and feel _clean_ for once.

But, most of all, Michael wanted to kiss Calum.

He wanted it so much that his whole head was spinning with it and his thoughts were a jumble in his head.

“Mike?” Calum breathed and Michael blinked hard, curling his free hand into a fist while the other stayed resting lightly on Calum’s shoulder.

“It’s nothing, Cal,” Michael said and the sigh that escaped Calum wasn’t quiet enough. “It doesn’t matter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you thought omg <3


	6. Still High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Ashton looked up at Calum sharply, his soft hazel eyes shocked, and the pain on his face made Calum wrap his arm gently around Ashton’s waist, giving him a half-hug as they wandered, because it looked like Ashton_ needed _the comfort and the fact that Calum still didn't know why _hurt_ him._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry it's taking me so long to update at the moment but I haven't been feeling that motivated and I don't want to be really half-arsed about this fic so I'm only writing it when I really, really want to make it good <3  
> I hope this doesn't suck x

**_Come back home, won't you come back home?_ **

**_You step in line, you got a lot to prove._ **

**_It comes and goes._ **

_\- Can’t Take It, The All-American Rejects_

Calum had felt nothing short of uneasy all day long.

Ashton had showed up to school late with pale skin and dark circles under his red eyes - and although it wasn’t exactly unusual for the curly-haired boy to look so wrecked, it still kind of hurt Calum to see - and Michael had kept staring too, looking away jerkily whenever the football captain happened to glance up like he didn’t want Calum to catch him watching him.

In the end, it was a pretty strange day and Calum was very glad when the bell rang to signify that it was time for them to go home.

Calum dragged his feet as the three of them walked down the pavement outside, not particularly keen to reach his destination, and neither Ashton nor Michael seemed to mind.

“What’s wrong, bud?” Calum asked the curly-haired boy softly, giving the older boy’s hand a squeeze as Michael drifted along behind them, his eyes glued to his phone screen.

Ashton looked up at Calum sharply, his soft hazel eyes shocked, and the pain on his face made Calum wrap his arm gently around Ashton’s waist, giving him a half-hug as they wandered, because it looked like Ashton  _needed_ the comfort and the fact that Calum still didn't know why  _hurt_ him.

“Nothing,” Ashton mumbled at length, hanging his head so that his curls fell into his eyes. “I’m fine.”

It was unconvincing at best but Calum didn’t push Ashton.

They had this sort of unofficial thing going on these days - the whole ‘ _We-don’t-talk-about-it-even-when-Ashton-is-literally-crying_ ’ rule - and Calum knew from past experience that the older boy would definitely _not_ take kindly to either Calum or Michael prying now.

In the end, the dark-haired boy just sighed softly before he switched to holding Ashton’s large, trembling hand instead.

“We’re here if you want us, bud,” Calum said at length, and Ashton had barely given the taller boy a soft, watery smile when Michael spoke suddenly, startling the pair.

“Hey, isn't that your sister, Cal?”

The dark-haired boy jerked his head up, clutching Ashton’s hand too-hard in his own as his heart raced when he saw Mali’s dented car pulling up on the curb in front of them. She rolled the window down and smiled sheepishly at her little brother as he stood staring at her in shock.

“You’re back,” Calum breathed and Mali’s eyes darkened, like the desperate hope she could see on the sixteen year old’s face kind of hurt her, and Calum wondered if Mali had ever _really_ wanted to come back at all.

“You guys need a ride anywhere?” she asked at length and Calum glanced back at his friends, a little impatient because he just wanted to be with his sister now. He thought maybe they could see it on his face though because Ashton hung back and Michael shook his head, smiling weakly.

“Text you later, Cal,” the red-haired boy said instead and he snagged Ashton’s hand gently in his own as the pair of them continued walking down the road.

“Jump in, squirt. I’ll give you a lift,” Mali said and Calum walked round to the passenger side of the car on shaky legs as the relief that was pumping through him mingled with the hurt he could still feel lingering in his veins even now.

“Home’s in that direction,” Calum mumbled when Mali hit the gas, driving back the way that her younger brother and his best friends had just come from.

“I know,” the nineteen year old said, running a hand through her long hair as she glanced at the vehicle driving behind her in the rear view mirror. “I thought we could get ice cream before I take you home.”

Calum’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food but he bit down hard on his lip, frowning down at his hands as they twisted in his lap when he thought back to what he had decided a week before on the night Mali had left.

Calum was cutting out snacks so that he could stay in shape for football and set a good example for the rest of the team, and eating ice cream was definitely _not_ the way to go about that.

“I don’t want any,” Calum said softly and Mali frowned at her little brother, glancing over as she took in Calum’s tired face with worried eyes.

“We don’t have to get any if you don’t want to, Cally,” she said at last, her voice delicate almost, and Calum didn’t know why she was looking at him like that but it was starting to bother him.

“I missed you,” he said, trying to distract her, and it must have worked because Mali looked disheartened as she turned into a carpark in town, navigating into a tricky space with only a little bit of swearing.

“I missed you too,” Mali promised and she gave Calum’s hand a gentle squeeze as they sat there in silence.

The sun was still high in the sky but the clouds were rolling across it and everything felt _grey_ to Calum… **cold**.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Mali said after a moment and Calum followed her out of the car in silence, leaving his backpack stowed safely beneath the seat so that no passersby could see it.

They walked along side by side, not quite touching but close enough that Calum could feel the heat radiating from Mali’s skin as it warmed his bare arm.

“I thought you’d be gone longer,” Calum said at last and Mali hung her head, entwined her fingers with her little brother’s and held on for dear life as they stepped onto the pebbly beach.

There was a rickety-looking pier that they avoided but the stones crunched beneath their shoes and the sea spray was cool on their skin when the salt water was blown at them on the breeze.

“Yeah… _about_ that…” Mali bit her lip and Calum felt something cold in his chest, put two and two together and actually came up with the right answer for once.

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” he said softly and Mali’s quiet exhale was all the answer he needed. “But… for _good_ this time?” he asked weakly, clinging to Mali tighter because that _wasn’t_ good.

It was _bad_.

Bad, bad, **bad**.

Calum didn’t want to live at home without her there.

“Yeah,” she breathed out, her voice choked up, like she was trying not to cry. “But you can’t tell mum and dad. _Please_. I’m going to stay at home for two more weeks or so and… and then I’ll leave.”

“Where will you go?” Calum asked and his breath kept catching in his chest, even as he fought down on his panic because it felt unfair to make Mali feel guilty about doing something that would make her happy.

It didn’t matter how _Calum_ felt about this.

His older sister took a lot longer to answer this time.

“I have this… this _friend_ ,” Mali said carefully. “He… He’s called Harry. He’s at university at the moment - in Canberra.”

“You drove the whole way there on your own?” Calum breathed, suddenly blinking back tears because Mali got anxious driving sometimes so she really _must_ have felt safe with this mysterious Harry if she’d driven all that way to see him. “That was brave.”

Mali let out a little sob and pulled her younger brother to her chest, holding him tight and tucking her face into his neck as he returned the hug shakily.

“For fuck’s _sake_ , Cal!” Mali gasped out and she was kind of crying as she clung to Calum like she didn’t want to let him go.

“What did I _do_?” the younger boy mumbled awkwardly, and Mali’s eyes were tear-wet and _incredibly_ grateful when she broke the hug to look up at him properly.

“Why do you have to be so fucking _nice_  all the damn time?” she demanded but she was brushing something damp from Calum’s cheeks with her thumbs and it took the taller boy a moment to realise that he was crying too.

“I… I just want you to be _happy_ ,” he mumbled, drying his eyes too-hard with his sleeves and turning away, so that he was gazing out over the ocean instead of at his sister.

“Cal, I -” Mali’s chocolate brown eyes were swimming with tears as she took his hand again but Calum didn’t look at her. He _couldn’t_ because, if he did that, he might just fall apart.

“Was that where you were this time? With _Harry_?” Calum asked and he wondered if it was his imagination when Mali’s cheeks flushed a little.

“Yeah,” the dark-haired girl said softly, biting her lip as Calum’s hand fell from her grip and the waves crashed against the beach. “He… he’s just a _friend_ though,” Mali said suddenly, even though Calum hadn’t even suggested that he might _not_ be, and that basically confirmed that they were something more than that.

Calum didn’t press the subject though and Mali looked grateful.

“So… you have two more weeks here left before you leave,” Calum said and his tone was carefully flat.

Mali sniffed, looking at the clear waters and the crumbling pier and the seagulls wheeling in the sky.

“We used to walk here when we were little,” she said softly and Calum’s heart ached in his chest but he fought not to let his pain show on his face.

The walk back to Mali’s car was silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought and, again, I'm sorry it's taken so long <3


	7. Hearts Thundered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Ashton’s head was resting on his folded arms now and his face hidden in the crook of his elbow, like he didn’t want the world to see him. Calum was looking up at Michael though, taking in the slight flush of Michael’s cheeks as they coloured under the dark-haired boy’s heavy gaze._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second (and final) update of the day!  
> Sorry not sorry...

**_I'm sorry but I fell in love tonight._ **

**_I didn't mean to fall in love tonight._ **

**_You're looking like you fell in love tonight._ **

**_Could we pretend that we're in love?_ **

_\- Is There Somewhere?, Halsey_

 

Michael didn’t think it was fair for Mali to put all of this on her younger brother.

It was pretty clear that Calum was already incredibly stressed about things at the moment and this just seemed like another weight on the younger boy’s trembling shoulders that was only going to hurt him even more in the long run.

Michael found it hard to stop himself from brooding over this and he knew that it must have shown on his face because both of his best friends were looking at him with concern from across their table in the library now, and the librarian kept fixing him with a hard stare, like he was suddenly going to whip out a lighter or something and destroy all of her stupid _tomes_.

It was kind of pissing Michael off but he did his best to suppress that because Ashton looked jumpy as _fuck_ today and Calum seemed more anxious than usual.

“What’re you guys doing?” Michael asked them both randomly, just for something to do because the silence was making him feel edgy and his thoughts had drifted back to Calum’s whole _Mali_ predicament again.

“I’m finishing my essay for Chemistry,” Calum said heavily but his chin was still propped up on his hand and his eyes were drooping a little, like maybe he hadn’t been getting enough sleep lately.

“I’m studying algebra,” Ashton offered quietly but his voice was soft and he looked mournful. “But I can’t do it.”

“Let me help you, mate,” Michael said, sliding into the seat beside the older boy and draping his arm around Ashton’s shoulders as he stretched to see the paper. Michael dropped a kiss onto the smaller boy’s curls when he gave a defeated sigh and the red-haired boy bristled a little when he felt Calum’s eyes settle on him.

“What? I can _do_ maths, Cal. I just don’t usually bother,” Michael said through gritted teeth, raising an eyebrow at the football captain as he patted the back of Ashton’s shaking hand comfortingly. The curly-haired boy sniffed, withdrawing it quickly and tugging at his sleeves so that his hands were covered, and although Michael frowned, he didn’t comment.

“I know,” Calum sighed, dropping his head into his hands and rubbing his face hard, like he was trying to rid himself of the tiredness he was feeling. “God, I’m so _sick_ of doing homework. I just want to go out tonight, take my mind off things.”

Michael felt his eyebrows taking a jaunt up to his hairline and, beside him, Ashton looked equally shocked.

“Who are you and what have you done with Calum?” Michael asked, fighting a smirk because he was fucking _funny_ , okay? Everyone knew it. They just might not _admit_ it sometimes…

“Very funny,” Calum snapped but his eyes were a tiny bit warmer now and Michael knew he was forgiven. “But I’m _serious_. Do either of you two want to do anything later? I don’t want to stay in tonight.”

Michael watched Calum carefully, took in the slight tightening of the younger boy's dark eyes and the way he set his jaw, like he was trying to hide his distress, but Ashton was already speaking before Michael could ask Calum why he looked quite so _upset_ about the prospect of going home, even if Mali _was_ leaving soon.

Michael figured that would have made the younger boy want to go there even _more_ if anything but apparently not.

“I’m working a shift at the garage tonight, Cal,” Ashton said quietly, looking stressed at the very _thought_ of going out. “Sorry.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Michael said with a slight shrug before something suddenly occurred to him. “But isn’t Mark from English having a party tonight? We could go there if you wanted.”

Ashton’s head was resting on his folded arms now and his face was hidden in the crook of his elbow, like he didn’t want the world to see him. Calum was looking up at Michael though, taking in the slight flush of Michael’s cheeks as they coloured under the dark-haired boy’s heavy gaze.

“I’ll come to the party with you,” Calum said, his voice soft as he stowed his essay carefully in his bag. “You can knock for me at seven.”

Although Michael raised his eyebrow again at being ordered about, he _had_ still done as he was told for once and now the pair of them were walking down the road together as the sun set slowly. The red-haired boy was trying his hardest not to hyperventilate because Calum was wearing this tight black t-shirt beneath a black and red checked flannel and he looked so fucking _hot_ tonight that it was untrue.

Michael was _wheezing_ , honestly.

Mark’s house was cramped and probably far too small for the number of people that he had managed to cram into it, and Michael was surprised to find that it actually bothered him a lot more than he’d thought it would.

It wasn’t even _big_ things either. It was just the fact that Michael had had to touch the door handle when they'd arrived, and someone had pressed a glass of vodka mixed with _something_ into his hand and he hadn’t been able to check if it was clean or not in the darkness, and he’d forgotten to bring his antibacterial hand sanitiser stuff with him so he kind of felt a bit _icky_ now but... but Calum had just grabbed Michael’s hand in surprise when someone ran into him from behind and Michael was going to do his utmost to let this distract him.

Calum had always been good at that anyway.

It was working _now_ too, thank god.

The music was loud and the alcohol was already burning down Michael’s throat and -  _damn_ , he'd been right earlier. Calum looked _amazing_ with his soft eyes - like melted chocolate almost - and the way his dark hair was curling around his ears. His lips were quirked into a faint smile when he caught his best friend watching him - and sure, maybe Calum _did_ look bashful and a touch uneasy but Michael had never seen him look _more_ beautiful, honestly - and… and this was **bad**.

This was really fucking _terrible_ because Michael was head over heels in _love_ with his best friend and… and Calum was _straight_ but… but he was staring back at Michael like he was _hungry_ almost and… and _fuck_ \- the dark-haired boy was so close now, swaying in time to the music as they danced and… and god, he was moving even _nearer_ and… and Michael wanted to kiss him again.

 _God_ , Michael wanted to **kiss** Calum and… and it could _happen_ to. It would be so _easy_ to just close the last few centimetres between them and brush his lips gently against Calum’s but… but Michael shouldn’t do that, probably.

There was most likely a _reason_ why that was a bad idea and…

Actually he couldn’t think of it right now, not when Calum was so close and his chocolate brown eyes were glittering and his hands were soft on Michael’s hips and - _fuck_ , Calum staring at Michael like that was _incredible_ -

But then someone had spilt their drink all over the guy standing beside them, and the pair were swearing and laughing and wheeling away, and Michael and Calum were left staring at each other in shock now as the bass pounded through the house and their hearts thundered too-hard in their chests in the moments before Calum seemed to come to his senses, half-running from the house.

The moment was broken.

So was Michael’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're very nearly caught up to where Maelstrom begins actually which I'm excited about :)  
> Please let me know what you thought of this <3


	8. Anything More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _While Michael’s feelings remained nothing more than an unspoken burning in his intense emerald eyes, Calum was safe. Anything more than that would be dangerous._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this doesn't totally suck <3

**_Wishing on a star that's just a satellite,_ **

**_Driving in a car with broken tail-lights,_ **

**_Growing up with eyes glued shut._ **

_\- Satellite, All Time Low_

 

Calum hoped he’d been convincing enough.

He’d caught up with Michael the morning after the party, forced himself to punch the older boy lightly on the shoulder before saying: “God, I was so drunk last night. I don’t even remember what _happened_ ”, even though that was fucking _bullshit_. Even though Calum remembered the feeling of Michael’s hips beneath his hands and the warmth of Michael’s breath as it ghosted across Calum’s lips, so _close_ in a dark room with pounding bass and too many people crammed into one place.

But lying was easier. It felt safer to watch Michael’s face fall than it was to watch the light in the older boy’s beautiful - _**fuck**_ \- green eyes flicker out when he realised that Calum had ran away from him, suffocating in fear and self-disgust, because it was _wrong_ to feel the way Calum did… to feel the way they **both** did…

Except… except Michael hadn’t actually said anything yet - he hadn’t _confirmed_ it - and that felt like the only thing that could comfort Calum anymore because it still gave him plausible deniability.

While Michael’s feelings remained nothing more than an unspoken burning in his intense emerald eyes, Calum was safe. Anything more than that would be dangerous.

The dark-haired boy could feel it stressing him out though and it definitely didn’t help that the teachers were already beginning to talk about exams too, even _though_ they were almost a year away now.

Maybe it wasn’t just school or _Michael_ that was stressing Calum out.

Maybe it was just **life**.

He was sitting in maths now with his chin propped up on his palm as he tried (and failed) to focus on what the teacher was saying. Michael had skipped the lesson and Ashton hadn’t even turned up today.

Calum sighed and dropped his head into his hands. He figured it wasn’t really that much of a surprise that he was the only one out of the three of them that was actually _liked_ by the teachers (with the exception of the music teacher who seemed to _adore_ Ashton).

Calum didn’t really think that was fair though. The curly-haired boy couldn’t exactly _help_ it if he wasn’t good in classes, but Michael was smart, even if he _didn’t_ ever really do the work.

Calum had to try _really_ hard though and, even then, getting good grades was a struggle. He just wanted to be as good as his sister though because then maybe his parents would be proud of him too. Maybe they’d stick his report card up on the fridge door like they’d done when he was in primary school, back in the days of golden star stickers and certificates for helping the caretaker tidy up the playground at lunchtime.

Calum hadn’t realised it back then but it was kind of _painfully_ obvious now. He just wanted to feel like someone cared about him, needed to be _wanted_.

That knowledge stung.

Calum’s face was buried in the crook of his elbow now and his arms were folded on the desk, and in the back of his mind, there was a little voice telling Calum that he should probably get up and do some work or he’d be a fat fucking _failure_ for the rest of his life, but the bigger part of him - and the irony of _that_ phrase wasn’t missed on the dark-haired boy - was still moping and sad and **lost**.

“Barker, hand these test papers back please,” their maths teacher said and, although Calum raised his head hesitantly, he was careful to avoid looking Charlie’s way. He didn’t need to see the remnants of the bruising discolouring the smaller boy’s face beneath his greasy black hair. That wouldn’t help Calum sleep any better at night.

Calum was half-expecting Charlie to slam the test paper down on the football captain’s desk but, instead, it ended up on someone else’s table and they had to pass it back to Calum.

The dark-haired boy frowned, unwilling to turn it over and see his score for the moment as his dark eyes settled on Charlie’s retreating back.

‘ _Huh_.’

Maybe Calum had scared Charlie more than he’d first realised.

Calum turned his paper over and felt his stomach lurch unpleasantly as he took in the little red mark at the top of the page because eighty five percent was _not_ good enough. Calum needed to be **perfect** and - _damnit_ \- here he was letting everyone down again.

The little red markings were doing their best to burn themselves into the back of Calum’s skull and… and that little voice in the back of his head was making itself known again, and most of Calum agreed with it because he _knew_ that this shouldn’t be something that made his stomach churn with acid, that made him feel like he was about to be _sick_ and… and maybe the amount of stress he was feeling for his lessons wasn’t exactly _normal_ but… but he couldn’t exactly _help_ it if he wanted to make his parents proud.

It was ironic too because that seemed to be the story of Calum’s whole fucking _life_ at the moment but he never seemed to manage it.

God, the way Calum was feeling was definitely _not_ normal and he wondered vaguely how much of this stemmed from him feeling pressurised by his parents.

If _Calum_ ever found a way to have kids - god forbid, because he’d probably find a way to mess _that_ up too - he didn’t want to turn out like his parents… like his _father_.

Calum supposed that at least part of the blame for the way he was _had_ to lie with his parents - and admitting that (even to _himself_ ) made him feel guilty as hell - because they were making him a nervous wreck.

Calum just felt so fucking **unstable** nowadays, _all the time_.

He knew he got his sudden rare bouts of temper from his father and Calum _hated_ that reminder. He fucking _hated_ it because it just made Calum feel all the more hopeless, like he could never achieve what he wanted to.

“- know the answer, Hood?”

Calum jerked upright, his eyes wide, his stomach roiling, and when he stammered out several useless syllables and his teacher simply looked away with surprised disappointment etched onto her face, Calum wanted to kick himself for not paying enough attention.

Calum spent the rest of the lesson pinching the soft skin of his stomach beneath his jumper to keep himself focused.

It didn’t really help though because Calum kept getting distracted by the burning sensation and his churning stomach instead; kept getting lost in the dull pain radiating from his bruised skin as his fingertips and nails dug in hard.

Calum didn’t take a single note that lesson and he felt fucking _useless_ for it, so much so that he _still_ felt like absolute shit when school ended.

He skipped dinner that night, lying to his parents and telling them that he’d grabbed some food with Michael and Ashton on the way home from school, and for once he barely noticed his parents’ distasteful expressions at the mention of their son’s best friends because Calum’s thoughts were spinning like a twister in his head, and he just needed to get out.

The dark-haired boy spent all evening walking on the beach beneath the stars but it wasn’t even _close_ to enough.

When Calum made it home late that night, he felt more lost than he ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you thought <3


	9. To Love And Be Loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Violet was pretty and clever and sweet, but Calum’s head was a mess of **MichaelMichaelMichael** , and Calum couldn’t _stand _it._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update has been such a long time coming.  
> I've been ill for like a week now and I'm just feeling really unmotivated but this fic means a whole damn lot to me so I hope this doesn't suck.

**_If you hurt me,_ **

**_Well that's okay, baby, only words bleed._ **

**_Inside these pages you just hold me,_ **

**_And I won't ever let you go._ **

_\- Photograph, Ed Sheeran_

 

By science class the next day, Calum felt a lot calmer but there was still _something_ deep inside him, this restless kind of energy that was crackling just beneath his skin, like electricity almost, or adrenaline-spiked blood.

He wanted to claw the feeling out from beneath his skin but there was a certain _numbness_ settling over Calum, crushing the life out of him.

He wished things were easier, wished he didn’t have these horrible feelings for fucking **Michael** bubbling away inside his chest. He wished he could find a nice girl and fall in love with her, so that maybe he could stamp out these feelings for one of his _best fucking friends_ before they spiralled out of control.

When Calum walked into science and discovered that the teacher had assigned them a new seating plan, for maybe the first time in his short life, Calum felt like his prayers were finally being answered.

The teacher had them all sat boy-girl which seemed kind of redundant in Calum’s opinion but he figured that at least he had a reason not to sit beside Michael anymore. Calum had been seated beside a girl called Violet Anderson.

They’d been in the same class since maybe year one or two but they’d never really spoken before now. She was pretty though - even in his exhausted, distressed state, Calum could see that - and he felt his heart skip a little, even as he beat down the images of red hair and green eyes that swam in his mind like flames.

“Hey,” Violet said when Calum sat down in his allotted seat wearily, stowing his bag under the desk. “It’s Calum, right?” she asked, running a hand through her braids as she smiled awkwardly.

“Yeah,” Calum said, sticking his hand out to shake hers without thinking. She laughed at him - so did one of her friends, turning in her new seat to giggle in this _really_ annoying way that was absolutely _nothing_ like Ashton’s cute laugh - but she still shook it gently before Calum could withdraw it.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said and her dark brown eyes were twinkling as Calum’s teacher strode into the room. “Again.”

“Shut up,” Calum grinned, rolling his eyes as he withdrew his notebook and biro from his backpack, zipping it up quickly afterwards. There was mud under Calum’s nails from football practise. Calum hit his head when he straightened up again.

Violet’s eyes were dancing when the football captain looked at her sheepishly.

“You’re not really a typical football captain, are you?” she joked before her eyes gleamed. “And besides, it’s not polite to tell a girl to shut up.” Violet lay a hand on her heart and pretended to be upset, and Calum’s lips twitched despite himself.

He wanted so, _so_ badly to like her enough that his feelings for Michael drained away.

“It’s not polite to tell _anyone_ to shut up,” Calum corrected and Violet grinned at him, patting the back of his hand lightly before she ducked her head to start taking notes, and Calum’s hand was shaking when he brought his biro to his own paper.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Violet said softly when the teacher started talking again and Calum’s weak smile died on his face when he looked up, only to find Michael gazing intently at the pair of them.

The red-haired boy’s stare didn’t waver and Calum felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he forced his head back down, hurriedly starting to scribble down notes on the electromagnetic spectrum as a shudder tore through him.

“You okay?” Violet asked softly and Calum looked up at her, nodding weakly as he took in the kindness in her eyes and the way her braids fell to gently frame her heart-shaped face, and it kind of _hurt_ that Calum couldn’t feel the way he so desperately _wanted_ to about her, because Violet was pretty and clever and sweet, but Calum’s head was a mess of **MichaelMichaelMichael** , and Calum couldn’t _stand_ it.

The teacher put a song on - it was so bad that, even in his current state, Calum still managed a weak laugh as the class watched the projected video bemusedly - and in the wave of chatter that followed, Calum made himself talk to Violet.

He was aware that he needed the distraction and her whole face lit up when he forced himself to give her his whole attention.

Calum tried not to think about how he was basically _using_ her as she scribbled her mobile number down on a piece of torn-out notebook paper, bordered with hearts drawn in pink highlighter pen.

“Maybe text me?” Violet suggested innocently at the end of the lesson before it was time to go home. Calum smiled faintly, wrote his number on the palm of her hand before he stashed his biro in the pocket of his trousers.

“Not if you text me first,” he said, dimpling at her in a way that only _kind_ of made him feel like shit, but when Calum left the building a few minutes later with Michael and Ashton on either side of him, he wasn’t thinking about Violet.

His thoughts were tangled up with images of Michael - at the party and at school and just in _general_ \- and Calum’s heart ached in his chest as the last of the desperate hope in his veins slowly drained away like lifeblood.

Calum wished he could love Michael - wished he could _let_ himself, wished that he could hear Michael say it and make himself _believe_ that it was okay but… but it wasn’t… so Calum would just have to pretend that he was _normal_ , that he _hadn’t_ comprehended what the blazing look in Michael’s eyes meant.

Calum had to hope that he learnt to believe it before his _own_ feelings tore him apart, because catching Michael glancing over Ashton’s head secretly at Calum now as the dark-haired boy remembered Violet’s mobile number hidden in his bag, he didn’t think it would take very much.

It hurt too, hurt that he could so  _easily_ picture just how wonderful it would be to love and be loved by Michael. It was  _agony_ that Calum knew he could never let himself have this.

The dark-haired boy felt like he was falling apart at the seams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought - kudos and comments mean the whole world, and I've love to hear what you guys think <3  
> Thank you all so much for reading this far xx
> 
> P.S. If you want to know what song the teacher showed, it's the electromagnetic spectrum song that my old teacher used to play all the damn time, and it can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjOGNVH3D4Y  
> It's really appalling but also annoyingly catchy and my class used to find it hilarious so I thought I'd add it here.


	10. Into Shade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum half-_ ran _to the shower, standing shuddering under the scalding water and wrapping his arms around himself tightly before it occurred to him that he_ definitely _didn’t deserve the comfort._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update was really, _really_ hard to write and I'm not 100% sure why that was. It took me a good few hours and it's really short so I don't know why...  
>  Urgh I don't know. Hopefully this isn't totally crap. I'm just worried this feels like it's not going anywhere.

**_I'm never what I like._ **

**_I'm double-sided._ **

_\- Semi-Automatic, Twenty One Pilots_

 

Calum was getting angry at himself.

His parents were out for the evening - they were having dinner with Calum’s father’s boss and his wife which gave the dark-haired boy the perfect excuse to miss dinner - and Mali was out visiting her friends so Calum had the place to himself.

Violet was still texting him.

They’d been talking all evening and their conversation had gradually become more and more inappropriate, but it kind of _relieved_ Calum in a way, because he’d had to force his responses earlier but they were coming more easily now and Calum thought maybe it was just the distraction he needed.

He was lying flat on his back in bed, trying to ignore how much his stomach was undoubtedly sticking out when he pushed his vest up his torso and dropped his hand to palm himself through his boxers.

His breath caught and his toes curled a little as he started to harden, and when he got a notification informing him that Violet had sent him a snapchat, Calum’s head spun when he opened it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned, wrapping his fingers around his cock as Violet’s ‘ **what are you doing now?** ' came through on his phone.

Calum told her - because why the hell not quite honestly? - and his heart was beating too hard in his chest now and -

 _Shit_.

Calum’s bedroom window was open in the hopes of tempting in a largely non-existent breeze and, apparently, so was Michael’s window two houses down. Calum could hear the familiar sounds of the older boy playing guitar and singing softly, and the notes were carrying across the still air and Calum’s fist was slick as his cock glided through it and, _damnit_ , Calum was screwed.

Violet was still sending him messages, offering pictures and video clips that made heat unfurl in Calum’s stomach, even as his heart ached with guilt, but all Calum could picture was how fucking _happy_ she’d looked in science, smiling and cheerful with sparkling eyes.

Calum was the worst person in the world probably.

Michael was still singing, his voice all rough and low as it made Calum’s cock kick in his hand - and the dark-haired boy was so panicked by the realisation that Michael - a fucking _boy_ \- had that much power over him that he didn’t even _care_ that he was blatantly using Violet, didn’t give a damn that he had pretty much manipulated her into sending him stuff like this because the self-hatred his actions caused him now burnt bright enough that they cast his desperately stamped-out feelings for Michael into shade.

Calum hated himself when his phone displayed another message, hated that he’d taken advantage of someone like this because it wasn’t fucking _fair_ and he knew Mali would murder him for it if she ever found out, (and rightly so in Calum’s opinion at least).

Calum wished he liked Violet - wished he _wanted_ to see the pictures she was sending, _wanted_ to text her filthy things and actually get off on it but…

Calum’s hand fell from his still-hard cock to fist in the duvet and he bit his bottom lip to keep his whimper in, hard enough that he tasted the faintest trace of blood.

This was _so_ wrong.

Calum threw his phone from him, figured his sudden absence would be less rude than the way he was behaving now, and his eyes were desperate as he stared up at his ceiling, tracing the patterns in the plaster as the sun set outside, painting the sky a bloody orange.

Michael was still singing and Calum’s phone lit up with another text from Violet, and Calum fought to ignore _both_ of them as he started to jerk himself off once more, keen to just get it over with now.

Calum forced himself to think of girls, of soft skin and long hair and cherry-coloured lips and -

 **Michael**.

Calum thought of _Michael_ with his pink lips and dyed crimson hair and sparkling emerald green eyes, and he imagined the way the older boy’s pale hand would feel wrapped tighter around him as his fist sped up; remembered the feel of Michael's hips beneath his hands and the intensity of the red-haired boy's gaze that day in the changing rooms when Calum had been getting dressed after showering, and when the dark-haired boy's breath caught in his throat again as he spilled across his stomach and gasped out his best friend’s name like a prayer, Calum felt revulsion like he never had before.

Sometimes it was hard to bury his thoughts of Michael but he’d never cum just from _thinking_ about him before.

The red-haired boy had stopped singing now though, thank _god_ , and Calum had never been more grateful because that would have been _too_ much.

 **Everything** felt like too much now.

Calum half- _ran_ to the shower, standing shuddering under the scalding water and wrapping his arms around himself tightly before it occurred to him that he _definitely_ didn’t deserve the comfort.

Then he dug his nails into his back and raked them across his skin, and he felt kind of like how he’d always imagined Nina from Black Swan felt in those moments when her self-control slipped away and she disgusted herself.

Calum had never felt more imperfect in his whole _life_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought because I'm kind of like actually worrying about this fic now...  
> I mean, we've finally caught up to where Maelstrom began but I don't want this to be really boring or whatever.  
> Yeah just... please let me know what you thought :/


	11. Flash Of Crimson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“You okay, Cal?” Michael asked when the red-haired boy caught up with his best friend leaving the classroom. Calum hated the way his heart gave a little flutter when he saw the older boy._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys.  
> Um... surprise?  
> Yeah, it turns out that even though this fic triggers me so damn bad, not writing it felt like giving in and I've never really liked that idea so... yeah... I'm back...  
> I can’t even begin to thank you all for your support though. It means more to me than I can say and it actually made me feel a lot better, knowing that you were so kind regardless, so thank you very much and I hope I can continue to do this fic justice.  
> I might have to take some breaks sometimes if it gets to be too much but I'd obviously let you guys know that so I'm never going to go silent without saying, I promise.  
> Thank you all for being so great and I really hope this update isn't too shit.  
> Again, thank you all for your incredibly kind words and I'm so sorry to mess you around like this!  
> Thank you <3  
> I hope you'll all enjoy :)

**_I'd go back in time and change it but I can't,_ **

**_So if the chain is on your door I understand._ **

_\- Back To December, Taylor Swift_

 

Calum ran a football practice at lunchtime the next day and, if he’d been angry and prickly that morning, he was downright _barbed_ by the time the session began.

Several members of the team hadn’t turned up - and Calum knew that _everyone_ could contest to how much that fucking pissed him off because, after that one occasion where Michael had managed to make Ashton skip with him and Calum had yelled so much that one of the blood vessels in his eyes had burst, it seemed fairly obvious.

So yes, Calum had been pissed off at himself after his actions the previous day but now his anger was burning low in his stomach like smouldering coals and nothing he did would extinguish it.

Ashton was watching Calum warily - the dark-haired boy could see his best friend’s surprisingly _empty_ eyes locked on him as the smaller boy lingered in the goal - and the football captain tried to ignore it as he blew the whistle in an attempt to get everyone to focus.

It seemed to work though and, by the end of the session, Calum actually felt a little calmer. He didn’t feel so tightly wound up anymore and his hands had stopped shaking quite so much.

Ashton had played surprisingly well and Calum gave the smaller boy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze on the way to their next lesson.

The dark-haired boy braced himself when he walked into science, heading towards his new seat and fighting to ignore the way Michael’s shoulders visibly slumped when Calum didn’t catch his eye as he dropped down onto the chair.

Violet’s cheeks flamed when she saw the football captain and Calum felt the guilt from the night before overwhelm him, and it must have been evident on his face because Violet’s face fell.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly and her voice was slightly choked as she kept her gaze fixed on her textbook. The teacher entered the room and Calum tore the edge of his piece of paper until it was more frayed than his nerves. “We don’t have to talk about it again.”

Calum exhaled shakily, suddenly fighting to swallow past the lump in his throat as he remembered how much he’d _wanted_ to want Violet yesterday.

That didn’t change the fact that he _didn’t_ though.

“I’m so sorry,” Calum said softly but Violet didn’t answer, simply ducking her head as she worked on the activity their teacher had just finished writing on the board.

Calum nodded, biting down on his bottom lip hard as he tried to read the instructions through the tears blurring his vision. All he could see were distorted shapes and a flash of crimson that Calum couldn’t place until he realised it was Michael’s hair.

That lesson was long and slow but, just as the bell rang for the end of the day, Violet reached out unexpectedly and gave Calum’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’m quite pissed off at you,” the dark-skinned girl said slowly, her eyes flashing when he looked up at her with something that wasn’t a _hundred_ miles away from fear. “But… y’know… you shouldn’t beat yourself up over this. It’s in the past and you can’t change it.” Violet hesitated and her expression softened a little. “Just don’t be such a dick next time, okay? Just _tell_ me. Communication is kind of important, you idiot.”

Calum’s lips twitched faintly and Violet rolled her eyes, hoisting her bag up onto her shoulder and leaving with little more than a weak, slightly awkward smile. Calum didn’t mind though. The guilt wasn’t clenching his heart so painfully in his chest anymore and he felt about ten times lighter because of it.

“You okay, Cal?” Michael asked when the red-haired boy caught up with his best friend leaving the classroom. Calum hated the way his heart gave a little flutter when he saw the older boy.

“Yeah,” the football captain replied, shouldering his bag and heading off down the corridor so that they could meet up with Ashton. “Are you?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Michael said slowly and not entirely convincingly but, for once, Calum let it slide, not wanting to get into an argument now when he was trying so hard to pretend that things were normal.

“What’s with you and Violet?” Michael asked casually as they met Ashton by his locker. The curly-haired boy fell into step beside them silently, hanging his head and looking so upset about something that Calum’s heart went out to him.

“It’s nothing,” the dark-haired boy said, frowning when he noticed Michael fixing him with a disbelieving look over Ashton’s head. “She gave me her number yesterday after science… That’s all, Mike.”

“Oh.” The red-haired boy’s face fell like Violet’s had at the beginning of their last lesson and, if Calum hadn’t been convinced that Michael liked him before, the dark-haired boy was _sure_ of it now and that realisation stole the breath from his lungs.

Calum had a sudden urge to explain himself but he fought against it, trying to tell himself that he didn’t owe Michael any sort of explanation because it wasn’t like they were _going out_ or something, damnit.

It wasn’t like he fucking **liked** Michael.

(The worst part was that Calum didn’t even believe it _himself_.)

Michael sighed shakily and Ashton’s shoulders slumped further, and Calum tried to distract himself, taking in the curly-haired boy’s sad face as he held his backpack in place on his shoulders. Ashton's eyes were slightly pained and Calum decided he was going to try his hardest to make the oldest boy smile.

“You played so well today, Ash,” the dark-haired boy said softly as the three of them wandered along. Ashton’s hazel eyes flickered up to Calum’s face in surprise and the dark-haired boy slipped his arm around Ashton’s waist before he could stop himself and, when Ashton _literally_ melted into the touch, Calum had to fight to swallow past the lump in his throat again. Michael’s fiery green eyes were a few shades too bright as they settled on the curly-haired boy and Calum knew instinctively that the red-haired boy felt the same worry for Ashton that he did too.

“Like, seriously,” Calum continued, jostling the curly-haired boy a little as they walked. “You were in the zone today, I swear. What were you even thinking about to get that focused?”

Calum realised he’d said the wrong thing when Ashton flinched but, fortunately, Michael was quick to pipe up with a comment of his own and, by the time they reached the two younger boys’ road, Ashton was smiling weakly again.

Once the curly-haired boy had left, Calum and Michael fell silent as they walked towards their houses, neither one speaking as the tension between them grew. Michael cringed when Calum’s arm brushed his and the dark-haired boy pulled away like he’d been burnt.

The only sounds were passing cars and a bird cawing overhead as the two stared at each other, both breathing heavily like they’d been _running_ almost -

But then the spell was broken and Calum was mumbling a goodbye as he jogged towards his house, and Michael simply stood there on the pavement as he watched the younger boy leave.

Calum felt Michael’s eyes on him the whole time, a heavy weight as they pressed down on him, like an _iron_ almost, crushing and scalding and painful.

Michael’s gaze _burnt_ and Calum felt the flames of it licking inside him, burning brighter and hotter until they were _so_ aflame that the dark-haired boy felt like he was about to burst.

More than anything, Calum wished he knew what it meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought of this because I'm quite worried about it :/ <3  
> Thank you for any who are still reading! I can't explain how much this means x


	12. Glowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Mali looked really happy, kind of_ glowing _almost, and Calum wished he could let that comfort him but his heart was aching now, like it was already imagining just how painful Mali’s departure was going to be._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this has taken me a little while to update but I'm kind of getting back into the swing of it now so I hope you guys will enjoy this! <3  
> Sorry it's kind of short :S

**_Your little brother never tells you but he loves you so._ **

**_You said your mother only smiled on her TV show._ **

**_You're only happy when your sorry head is filled with dope._ **

**_I hope you make it to the day you're twenty eight years old._ **

_\- Colors, Halsey_

 

Calum was right.

Mali was _furious_ when he told her what he’d done with Violet.

She smacked him round the head with a rolled-up magazine but she stopped when Calum didn't even _try_ to get away.

“You feel really shitty about this,” she realised and the magazine fell back down onto her bed through limp fingers, unfurling with a quiet crackle of glossy paper. Calum’s dark eyes settled on the creased picture as Mali’s hands fell to her sides. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging half-heartedly and catching Mali’s dark gaze warily. Her eyes softened. “I told Violet I was sorry and she said that she was pissed off but that there wasn’t any point in beating myself up over it because it was in the past and I couldn’t change it… and then she called me a dick and said that communication was important.”

Mali’s lips twitched slightly at that and she rolled her eyes, dropping her head into her hands for a moment like being a big sister was a lot of work sometimes.

“I like Violet,” Mali decided and Calum’s smile faded from his face because he’d just remembered that he wouldn’t be able to go to Mali with problems like this soon, because she’d be in Canberra with this mysterious _Harry_ and Calum would have to resort to hiding his feelings for Michael like he buried his head under the sand most days.

“I’m pleased you apologised though, squirt,” Mali said suddenly, drawing Calum back. “Must’ve raised you right after all.”

Mali looked really happy, kind of _glowing_ almost, and Calum wished he could let that comfort him but his heart was aching now, like it was already imagining just how painful Mali’s departure was going to be.

“Thanks,” Calum croaked, sniffling a bit pathetically before he snagged his pint glass of water from Mali’s desk and drank several gulps. His stomach gurgled unpleasantly, complaining because all he’d eaten that day was a cereal bar in the morning, but he’d discovered a few days previously that drinking a lot of water made him feel fuller than he was and he had definitely been using his newfound knowledge to his advantage.

“Why _didn’t_ you want to talk to Violet, Cal?” Mali asked suddenly and Calum’s head jerked up in shock, his eyes snapping open wide when he saw Mali’s eyes glued to her phone as she looked at Violet’s Facebook account.

Calum tugged her phone away from her and exited the app, suddenly feeling ridiculously _defensive_ although he couldn’t have explained why.

All Calum _did_ know was that he liked girls but, _damnit_ , he liked Mikey more.

Mali was looking at the sudden fear on her younger brother’s face with wide eyes.

“Cally, it’s okay, baby," she said suddenly, surprising him. "You’re allowed to change your mind as many times as you like. No one can judge you for it.”

Calum’s bottom lip wobbled and he bit down on it hard, curling his hands into fists as he watched the tendons and muscles shift beneath the tanned skin of his arms.

“Why’d you say that?” Calum breathed and Mali’s face crumpled, like the pain her little brother was fighting to hide physically _hurt_ her.

Calum felt terrible.

“Because you look _lost_ ,” Mali whispered, cupping Calum’s soft cheek gently as her eyes swam with tears. Calum cringed away, hating the way his flesh filled her palm like that because even _she_ must see how fucking fat he looked now.

It was no _wonder_ that Mali was leaving him behind.

“Cally, baby, it’s going to be okay,” Mali whispered, presumably so that her voice wouldn’t have a chance to break. “ _Everything_ is going to be okay. I _promise_. You don’t have to be frightened, squirt. It’ll all work out in the end, even if you’re _not_ completely sure of things right now.”

Calum felt fear grip his heart, colder than his anger and more painful than his anxiety.

He wondered if Mali had realised that maybe her younger brother _wasn’t_ as straight as he liked to pretend he was and… and _that_ thought scared Calum more than almost anything else did because his _parents_ might find out and Calum couldn’t stand the thought of that.

He couldn’t stand what his parents would say if they found out that Calum liked boys in the same way he liked girls… if they found out that Calum liked _Michael_.

“Mali,” Calum said weakly, unsure of what he could say to distract her or defuse the situation or _**something**_.

Mali pulled Calum into a hug, holding him close as he broke down, her grip so tight that it felt kind of like she was trying to keep him from falling apart.

“It’ll be okay, Cal,” Mali whispered, pressing a watery kiss to his forehead as he shuddered apart in her arms, biting his lip so hard that he drew blood as a sob tore its way out of him violently.

“Shhh, little squirt. It’s all going to be okay,” his big sister breathed but it _wasn’t_ because Mali’s arms might have been wrapped tight around Calum but all he could think of was Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the delay - I went on a terrible holiday and got food poisoning and some other shit happened which was unpleasant but I'm back and I hope I'll be able to update this more frequently from now on!  
> Please let me know what you thought as it really does mean the world :)  
> Thank you so much for sticking by me, guys <3


	13. Through It All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“You wanna come to the park with me?” Michael asked softly, his voice clear in the quiet. Calum’s grip on the edge of the windowsill tightened until his knuckles went white._  
>  _"Yeah, okay."_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me two whole days to write and I'm not entirely sure why but hopefully you'll enjoy it! :)  
> Also the writing style seems kind of different and I'm not sure why but hopefully this doesn't totally suck...

**_Friday night beneath the stars,_ **

**_In a field behind your yard,_ **

**_You and I are paintin' pictures in the sky._ **

_\- I’m Only Me When I’m With You, Taylor Swift_

 

The week dragged by slowly, every second seeming to take an age as it bled into the next.

The skies above Calum were washed out and grey, and that wasn't a hundred miles away from how he felt himself. Everything just felt so damn _difficult_ at the moment, like it almost wasn't worth trying anymore.

Calum wondered what would _happen_ if he stopped pretending sometimes. He wondered what his parents would say if he just sat down and told them everything - told them how he felt about Michael, how he was starting to feel about food... how he felt about **them**.

Maybe that was why Calum didn't do it.

He just lay on his bed in the dark and felt the fear growing inside him, festering as it bubbled and boiled and _burnt_. He was frightened of what would happen when Michael realised how Calum felt. He was afraid for Ashton because the smaller boy grew paler with every passing day. Most pressingly though, Calum felt almost _sick_ with terror at the thought of his older sister leaving home.

He didn't want to be here without her, slowly suffocating beneath the dark cloud of his parents' disapproval.

Calum was stuck in a rut. He knew his parents wouldn't understand and he couldn't tell his friends for obvious reasons and… god, sometimes there didn't seem to be a way _out_ of this situation.

He felt trapped, like he was locked up in a dank dungeon somewhere with bars over the windows that were slowly but surely letting in water. Calum could feel it flooding his lungs sometimes, felt it slowly trying to drown him as his breath escaped him in little gasps when he choked on the air that was keeping him alive.

Michael came to rescue Calum from his dungeon on Friday night.

The dark-haired boy had been lying on his bed in the dark, pinching at his stomach as he thought about the previous evening. He’d watched Black Swan again, lost himself in the inky shadows and Nina’s panic and the dark feathers as they pierced her skin like blades.

Then there’d been a low clattering sound as a handful of small pebbles hit Calum’s window.

He frowned through the darkness, pushing himself up into a sitting position before he approached the glass warily, feeling his breath catch unpleasantly in his throat when he saw who was below his window.

Michael was standing on the pavement outside, dressed in torn skinny jeans, a Misfits vest with a stretched-out neck, a faded denim jacket, and his signature scuffed combat boots. His scarlet hair looked like burnished gold beneath the streetlights and his cherry-coloured lips were tugging up into a slightly sheepish smile.

“You wanna come to the park with me?” Michael asked softly, his voice clear in the quiet. Calum’s grip on the edge of the windowsill tightened until his knuckles went white.

Calum didn’t point out that it was already twelve o’clock at night.

He didn’t point out that his parents wouldn’t like it if they woke up and found him gone.

He didn’t even point out that it was kind of beginning to drizzle outside because Michael was standing _right_ there beneath his window with an open, upturned face and shining emerald green eyes and - _fuck_ , the football captain had missed him.

“Yeah, okay,” Calum mumbled. “Just let me get my trainers on.”

It was cold outside but Michael’s denim jacket was warm when it brushed against Calum’s arm, leaving goosebumps behind on his tanned skin.

Calum was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and an oversized, navy-blue jumper, and his dark hair was curling on his forehead in the light rain.

It was completely silent outside - there was no passing cars and even the pattering of the rain against the pavement was noiseless - and that was why Calum heard Michael inhale shakily, like he was trying to pluck up the courage to speak.

After what felt like an age, Michael did.

“So… uh…” The older boy rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, glancing at Calum out of the corner of his eye as they crossed the road, heading towards the park.

“You and Violet -”

“Are nothing.” Calum spoke softly but his eyes were imploring when Michael looked down at him. “She wanted and I didn’t - _couldn’t_ -”

Michael frowned, like he was trying to understand something confusing.

“Did she upset you?” he asked at last and Calum smiled weakly, letting his head fall to rest against Michael’s shoulder before he’d really had time to process it.

“No, Mikey,” he said softly and the shake in his voice was barely noticeable. “But thank you for caring.”

“Of course I care, Cal,” Michael said blankly and, when Calum glanced over as they entered the park, his hands curled into fists when he saw Michael chewing on his bottom lip anxiously. “You’re my best friend.”

Calum choked on the words but he still said them back, stumbling a little as a wave of self-loathing battered against the golden light that glowed when Calum was so close to Michael. It was like all of the younger boy’s inhibitions fell away from him - like rainwater almost - and every single warped, twisted thing he’d been worrying about suddenly became unimportant when Michael was looking at him like that.

The pair came to a stop beside the same large, gnarled apple tree as before. The rain had stopped now but it didn’t matter anyway because the jade green leaves of the tree were thick enough that the ground surrounding the roots had remained dry.

Michael slumped down against the trunk, pulling Calum down with him in the same easy, carefree manner that had got the pair of them - and often Ashton too - into so much trouble when they were at primary school.

“So… you and Violet are nothing,” Michael said quietly and Calum stilled, fiddling with the hem of his jumper as he huddled up, drawing his knees closer to his body in an effort to keep warm. Michael wrapped his arms easily around Calum’s narrow form and it made the younger boy’s _heart_ hurt. “Do you like someone else then?”

‘ _Yes_ ,’ Calum answered silently, looking up at Michael and wishing that everything wasn’t simultaneously clearer and more confusing than anything else he'd ever had to deal with before had been. ‘ _ **You**_.’

By the look on Michael’s face, maybe he could see it in Calum’s eyes.

(A tiny part of Calum kind of hoped that Michael _could_ and that scared him more than anything in that moment.)

The red-haired boy’s face was surprisingly tense when Calum looked up from where he was safely nestled in the older boy’s denim-clad arms.

“Are… are we okay, Cal?” Michael breathed suddenly, like he was afraid of the answer. “Because sometimes you look at me funny or I say something stupid and… and then I don’t know if we are anymore.”

Calum’s eyes were dark and sad, and his voice sounded empty even to his _own_ ears when he spoke.

“Yeah, Mike,” he said softly, his expression downcast as he covered his hands with his too-long sleeves. “Things might get hard and we might get scared sometimes - about Ash or just in general even - but… but we’re still best friends, okay? Always.”

Calum’s voice somehow managed not to shake but his hands were trembling as he fisted the front of Michael’s jacket, fighting not to notice how the red-haired boy’s eyes were suddenly gleaming with tears.

“Through it all,” Michael choked out and that kind of did it for Calum.

A tear rolled down his cheek because that had always been their thing when they were younger. ‘ _Through it all_ ’ became their catchphrase almost - something that was only **CalumAndMichael**. _Theirs_.

They’d whispered it to each other when they were little, at sleepovers when Calum was afraid of the dark and Michael was scared that he wouldn’t be able to sleep. They’d said it to each other when Calum was frightened before a big football match and Michael promised that he’d never leave Calum, even _if_ the younger boy messed up and they lost the game.

‘ _Through it all._ ’

Calum wondered why those three little words brought tears to his eyes.

“You’re right,” Michael said suddenly, his voice weak like he was remembering too. “I think we _should_ be scared for Ashton.”

“I know,” Calum breathed in a hollow little voice, holding onto the front of Michael’s jacket tighter. Michael gave him a gentle squeeze and Calum exhaled shakily, suddenly fighting not to cry. “I don’t have a _clue_ what’s wrong but… but _something_ obviously is…”

“I don’t…” Michael shook his head sadly, biting down on his bottom lip again as a light breeze rustled the damp leaves of the apple tree. “Maybe we could take him to see my uncle?”

It sounded like a question and Calum frowned as he considered that.

Michael’s uncle Graham Clifford was a nurse in the hospital downtown. He’d always seemed like a lovely guy whenever Calum had seen him but the football captain couldn’t exactly see Ashton being _happy_ about the idea of that.

“I don’t think Ash would ever forgive you,” Calum pointed out into the darkness.

Silence grew between them, stretching on and on until it hit breaking point, shattering like millions of shards of glass.

“Cold,” Calum breathed suddenly, shrinking back into the confines of his oversized jumper in the moments before Michael held him closer still, tangling his fingers idly in Calum’s dark hair as the pair lay slumped there, like he was relishing being able to hold his best friend this close again.

Michael’s arms were warm wrapped around Calum and the pleasure that the younger boy felt at such a simple action battled against the revulsion he could feel that spread like poison through Calum’s veins because he shouldn’t even _like_ being held like this by another boy… except he did.

There was absolutely no denying it, not with the way Calum's inhibitions trickled away from him when he was so close to his best friend. Michael had always had that effect on Calum though, even when the pair of them were back in school with Ashton.

When the dark-haired boy raised his head, he wasn’t particularly surprised to find Michael gazing down at him again, looking at Calum like he was something precious that deserved to be treasured, in a way that nobody else _ever_ looked at Calum - not even Ashton or Mali - and Calum _relished_ that feeling, liked it because it made him feel like someone really and truly _wanted_ him.

Calum didn’t want it to stop.

Michael was still staring down at him with stars glittering in his gaze, only his eyes kept flickering down to the dark-haired boy's lips and Calum wet them unconsciously, blinking slow so that his eyelashes fluttered down across his cheekbones.

Michael swallowed - his Adam’s apple bobbing so close because the younger boy’s cheek was still cushioned on Michael’s chest - and, quite suddenly, the part of Calum that giggled when he was nervous wanted to _smile_ , only that felt inappropriate somehow so the dark-haired boy ducked his head instead, hiding the gentle tugging of his lips in the soft, warm skin of Michael’s neck.

The older boy smelt good too, like chocolate and laundry detergent and something _else_... something that was entirely **Michael**.

Calum wanted to kiss him.

The realisation hit him like a freight train and yet… he kind of felt like it shouldn’t surprise him.

They’d kissed before after all, during stupid games of Truth Or Dare and Spin The Bottle at parties… except that didn’t feel important really. It had been nothing more than a brush of lips in the darkness. It didn’t _mean_ anything.

Maybe that would be the same now.

It was dark after all, quiet and empty and just **them**... _MichaelAndCalum_... the way it was _supposed_ to be.

Calum turned his head hesitantly where it was resting beneath Michael’s chin, letting his full lips gently brush the pale skin covering the red-haired boy’s throat, and it was _almost_ a kiss, and Calum could feel it, could feel the terror and excitement and _adrenaline_ burning through his veins, just like Nina in the final dance of Black Swan, right before she dropped down dead, and _damnit_ , Calum was alive again.

This was pushing boundaries because the dark-haired boy could still deny this, could still say that it didn’t mean anything, only Michael was swallowing audibly now, gripping his best friend’s shoulders a little more tightly as they lay tangled there together in the darkness.

Michael’s breath caught in his throat and he exhaled shakily, like this was _just_ as scary and thrilling and **real** for him as it was for Calum -

And then Michael pulled away unwillingly from the soft touch and the whine that escaped Calum was nowhere _close_ to quiet enough.

Michael let his forehead fall to rest on Calum’s shoulder and his voice was little more than a mumble as he breathed out something that sounded quite a lot like: “ _You’re gonna regret this, mate_.”

Calum didn’t resist when Michael pulled away from him, wriggling out from beneath the younger boy and leaving after giving Calum’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Michael tried to speak before he left, choked on a sentence that began with: “ _I l-_ ”, but he shook his head and strode away, burying his hands in the pockets of his skinny jeans as he faded away into the night.

Calum stayed lying on the grass as he stared up at the stars through the gaps in the trees. His heart was pounding with the knowledge of what had almost happened - the **what ifs** and the **maybes** that were threatening to crush him - and his head was spinning with it.

Calum wondered how Michael could make all of his worries and everything else he was dwelling on fall away from him like drops of water… and then it occurred to Calum that that was _bad_ because it fucked up afterwards, messed Calum up when all of those worries that had trickled away froze around him like water, so that he couldn’t move at all.

Everything felt icy now and the dark-haired boy shivered, felt the emptiness inside of him sucking in any light that Michael had set flickering faintly in Calum’s heart.

The only part of him that felt warm now was the hand that Michael had gripped and, when Calum stared down at it, taking in his long fingers and the tanned skin stretching across his knuckles, he could almost feel Michael’s warm palm against his own, comforting and safe in a way that almost nothing else was anymore.

When Calum’s eyes returned to the sky as the phantom hand around his own squeezed gently, it felt like maybe the stars were burning brighter because of Michael.

Then again, Calum figured maybe _that_ shouldn’t surprise him either.

Michael had always shone brightest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought!  
> We're getting so near to where everything starts going to shit (sorry) and I'm kind of really reeeeeaallllllyyyyyy excited to write that because I'm probably mean or something idk.  
> But yeah, please let me know what you thought :) <3


	14. Set Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _The track changed and Calum felt his heart rising into his throat because Michael was looking at him now with his eyes all glitter-soft and beautiful, and Calum’s pulse was roaring in his veins like a caged lion as his heart thumped restlessly in the confines of his fragile chest._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun to write but I made it way more angsty than I was planning so I'm really sorry about that!  
> And I think I was right yesterday... my writing style seems to have changed and I'm not entirely sure why!  
> Anyway, hopefully you'll enjoy this :)

_**I don't wanna be your friend,** _

_**I wanna kiss your neck.** _

_\- Fallingforyou, The 1975_

 

One of the guys from the football team was throwing a party on Saturday night and, against Calum’s better judgement and despite the late night he had had the day before, he still turned up, dressed casually in a grey flannel over an All Time Low t-shirt and dark skinny jeans.

Michael was walking along beside Calum, biting his lip with his crimson hair a mess over a soft black sweatshirt and torn jeans. He looked good - of _course_ he fucking did; it was **Michael** \- but there was an awkward sort of tension bubbling between them now after what had almost happened the night before, and it only worsened when their arms brushed and the dark-haired boy flinched away without meaning to.

Calum hated the tension and, judging by the unhappy look that grew on Michael’s face as they approached the overcrowded house where the party was already in full swing, Calum wasn’t alone.

The building was packed when they entered and the music was far too loud, and Calum found himself wondering vaguely whether or not Ashton had been invited. Quite honestly, the dark-haired boy kind of hoped his best friend _hadn’t_ been because Ashton seemed to really _hate_ things like this, and Calum knew that all that would have happened was that Ashton wouldn’t have turned up and he would have stayed at home instead, tormenting himself over feeling bad about not going out with his friends.

Calum’s face fell and his breath escaped him in a low sigh because thinking about Ashton _hurt_ sometimes.

“Cally?” Michael asked softly and Calum looked up, swallowing past the lump in his throat and trying for a weak smile that he was pretty sure fell a long way from the mark.

The party’s host bounded over, slapping the football captain on the shoulder and giving Michael a slightly awkward smile because apparently he hadn’t forgotten what had happened that day in the changing rooms yet.

“How ya doin’, cap?” the guy grinned and his beam was kind of contagious, despite the sadness that was still lingering inside Calum.

“I’m okay, Sam,” he said, and that had kind of never been farther from the truth than it was then. “Mike’s good too. We were just going to get a drink.” Michael nodded in agreement and Sam’s soft grey eyes flickered over the pair of them, taking in the careful distance between them and the way Michael was rubbing his hands uncomfortably, like they didn’t feel _clean_ almost.

“You guys look awkward as _fuck_ ,” Sam said abruptly, his eyes grave. “I think you should both get proper pissed.”

For the first time since arriving, Michael’s lips twitched into a faint smile.

“Y’know what, Sammy?” The red-haired boy’s tone was light and teasing but his eyes were pained. “I was thinking exactly the same thing.”

Sam grinned, punching Michael lightly on the shoulder.

“Don’t call me Sammy or I’ll stab ya,” he said cheerfully before he gave Calum another grin and disappeared back into the crowded living room.

“Right,” Calum said slowly when the awkwardness between him and Michael returned in full-force. “Let’s see about that alcohol.”

They found it easily enough and, after maybe an hour and a half, Calum was _well_ on his way to drunk. Michael was too, already at the ' _giggling-into-his-hands-for-no-reason_ ' stage where his eyes glittered like gemstones and his cheeks flushed as red as his hair, leaving him looking like a _really_ cute tomato or something.

Calum frowned, wondered where his life had gone wrong because here he was, staring at his best friend as subtly as he could while he compared him to a fruit people often mistook for a vegetable and -

 _Damn_. Maybe Calum _was_ drunker than he’d first realised.

He found he didn’t mind very much though. The slight blurring of his vision and the taste of alcohol on his tongue was enough to make him forget how fucking _fat_ he felt, and the music pounding through him and jarring his bones distracted him from the ache in his chest that only grew when he thought about Mali or Ashton or his _fucking_ parents.

The new tension growing between Calum and Michael didn’t vanish though, no matter _how_ hard the pair of them tried to drown it in alcohol.

The tension _changed_ instead, became lingering touches and long looks and eyes fixed on lips for far too long.

Calum could feel Michael’s eyes resting heavily on him, _smouldering_ almost, burning in the best way possible. It was like that day in the changing room and, even as a shudder ran through Calum, he _knew_ he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t like it anymore because he _did_.

He really, _really_ fucking did.

The only reason Calum wasn't freaking out about this was a combination of alcohol and the fact that Michael hadn’t confirmed it yet because Calum still stood by what he’d said before - while nothing had actually been _said_ yet, Calum could still deny it, could still hold onto his plausible deniability like it was a comfort blanket and he was a frightened child almost, afraid of the monsters that lurked in the darkness, just out of sight.

Michael hadn’t confirmed his feelings and Calum was still safe in dreamland, sheltered in a warm shadowy place where he could pretend that everything was still alright, like he’d done when he was just a little kid.

The track changed and Calum felt his heart rising into his throat because Michael was looking at him now with his eyes all glitter-soft and beautiful, and Calum’s pulse was roaring in his veins like a caged lion as his heart thumped restlessly in the confines of his fragile chest.

“ _What time you coming down? We started losing light. I’ll never make it right, if you don’t want me around_.”

Calum loved this song, loved Matt Healy’s voice and the beautiful chords and how soft the music sounded in contrast to the AC/DC song that had been blaring before.

“ _I’m so excited for the night. All we need’s my bike and your enormous house_.”

Michael smiled at Calum, his cherry-red lips twitching like they did when he was being told off at school but he still caught Calum’s eye and tried to tell his worried best friend without words that it was okay.

Calum’s heart hurt at that realisation.

“ _You said someday we might, when I’m closer to your height. ‘Til then we’ll knock around, endlessly. You’re all I need_.”

Michael was mouthing the words as he set his beer bottle down on the closest flat surface with shaking fingers. He turned to face Calum again and the dark-haired boy found himself drawing closer to Michael, moving almost unconsciously until he was pressed against the red-haired boy’s chest with Michael’s hands rubbing comforting circles into his back through the thin shirt Calum was wearing.

“ _Don’t you see me now? I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you. Don’t you need me? I, I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you_.”

Michael was still softly singing, his voice gravelly as his full lips gently brushed against the overheated skin of Calum’s forehead, and it was so _weird_ but that tiny touch was enough to make Calum’s knees weaken and, suddenly, the only things still holding Calum up were Michael’s arms wrapped tightly around him and his own hands holding onto the older boy’s shoulders securely.

“ _And on this night and in this light, I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you. Maybe you’ll change your mind. I think I’m falling, I think I’m falling_.”

Michael’s breath was tickling Calum’s face, warm and soft as it ghosted over the younger boy’s skin and made him shiver. This close, Calum could count all of the eyelashes framing Michael’s beautiful eyes, and they were still the soft burnished gold from their childhood and, abruptly, Michael was all Calum could comprehend anymore.

 **MichaelMichaelMichael**.

 _Fuck_ , but Calum never wanted Michael to let go of him.

“ _I’m caught on your coat again. You said: ‘Oh, no, it’s fine.’ I read between the lines and touched your leg again, again_.”

One of Michael’s hands drifted up - seemingly of its own accord - to cup Calum’s cheek gently and the dark-haired boy was so lost in the stars in Michael’s gaze that he didn’t even feel _uncomfortable_.

The red-haired boy was still looking down at Calum like the younger boy was all he’d ever wanted but he hadn’t actually _said_ anything about any feelings that might possibly be hiding just beneath the surface and Calum took comfort in that -

And then Michael set fire to everything as the tip of his nose brushed against Calum’s when he ducked his head to gently catch the dark-haired boy’s lips in a soft kiss.

Michael’s mouth tasted like beer and coffee and mint, and it maybe should have been a bit gross but it just _wasn’t_ because it was **Michael** and Calum was so far gone for the red-haired boy that it fucking _hurt_.

“ _I’ll take you one day at a time. Soon you will be mine. Oh, but I want you now, I want you now, when the smoke is in your eyes. You look so alive. Do you fancy sitting down with me? Maybe?_ ”

For just a moment, Calum let himself melt into it.

He let himself kiss Michael back, wind his arms gently around Michael’s neck as he parted his lips and took Michael’s tongue into his mouth. He let Michael tangle his fingers in Calum’s hair as he deepened the kiss, let Michael press up against him before he swallowed the little whimper that escaped the older boy, but it wasn’t until Michael’s free hand slipped down to the small of the younger boy’s back so that he could hold him closer that Calum realised what was happening.

“ _You’re all I_ _need_."

Common sense trickled down Calum’s spine like icy water and he jerked away in shock, staring at Michael with his bruised lips and stunned eyes and a dazed expression that looked a lot like horror.

 _"According to your heart, my place is not deliberate_.”

They were both panting, both licking their lips and blinking back tears and trying to process what the _fuck_ had just happened because this was _nothing_ like a chaste kiss in a park in the middle of the night **.**

It… it was **everything**.

“ _Feeling of your arms, I don’t wanna be your friend. I wanna kiss your neck_.”

Michael’s expression cleared and his fingers wrapped gently around Calum’s thin wrist, like he was holding him there, afraid to let him go.

“I love you,” Michael breathed but Calum saw his lips form the words and his blood ran cold. _“Fuck,_ Cal, I… I **_love_ ** you.”

Calum stared at Michael in absolute shock because all of the lies he’d told himself, all of the walls he’d put up in an effort to hide behind and stay fucking _safe_ had just been ripped away by Michael and… and Calum felt raw and terrified and _vulnerable_ and… and he did the only thing he could think of.

He ran away.

“ _Don’t you see me? I, I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you. Don’t you need me? I, I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you_.”

The night was dark and Calum’s desperate chocolate brown eyes were blurry with tears and, suddenly, all of the alcohol Calum had drank didn’t feel like such a good idea anymore because his stomach was churning with nausea and his heart was racing and the sobs escaping Calum fucking _hurt_ him and his skin was burning where Michael had touched him.

Calum doubled over as another sob tore out of him without his permission but he couldn’t _help_ it because all he could see in his mind’s eye was the betrayal and loss and fucking  _despair_ on Michael’s face as Calum had wheeled out of the room, fighting against the part of himself that _wanted_ to be close to Michael because it was **wrong.**

Calum only made it to the end of the road before he doubled over and emptied his stomach on the ground but he barely even _noticed_ because he could still hear the music playing from the party and the closing lines of the song made him want to tear his heart out of his chest and tear it to fucking _pieces_... just like **Michael** had done.

“ _And on this night and in this light, I think I’m falling, I’m falling for_ you."

Calum staggered home, half-blind with tears as his heart crumbled apart in his chest.

" _Maybe you’ll change your mind_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually really scared this won't live up to expectations or whatever so please, _please_ let me know what you thought!  
>  Thank you so much for reading :) <3


	15. Stormclouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Michael flinched at Calum’s words but his hand still drifted out towards the dark-haired boy almost unconsciously - like it had done yesterday right before he’d confessed to Calum that he_ loved _him - and when Calum literally recoiled, Michael felt like icy water had been poured over him as it ran down his back, making him shudder as his churning stomach tied itself into knots._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angsty as hell but i'm not feeling good at all so. yeah. i figured an angsty update was better than no update at all. <3

**_Last night I think I drank too much,_ **

**_Call it our temporary crutch._ **

**_With broken words I’ve tried to say,_ **

**_Honey, don’t you be afraid,_ **

**_If we’ve got nothing we got us._ **

_\- Something I Need, OneRepublic_

 

Michael woke up at noon on Sunday with dread in his heart, although he couldn’t remember _why_ at first.

The sunlight was dappling the ceiling and making the red-haired boy’s eyes hurt. His head was burning and his mouth felt like it was full of sawdust and, as Michael kicked the duvet away and groaned into his pillow when his head began to pound, the events of the previous night slowly trickled back.

“ _Fuck_.”

Fear clutched at Michael’s heart and he figured it wasn’t _only_ last night’s alcohol that sent him lurching towards the bathroom to empty his stomach.

All he could see in his mind’s eye as he hurriedly cleaned his teeth and staggered into the first clothes he found was **Calum**.

He could picture Calum’s dazed, chocolate brown eyes and the soft drag of his lips against Michael’s as the younger boy’s long fingers tangled in Michael’s flyaway red hair like it was happening right _now_ and -

And then Michael could see the panic and the terror and the fucking _horror_ that had torn Calum away from him, lighting up the younger boy’s face like lightning rending through stormclouds.

 _God_ , but Michael had fucked everything up.

He… he’d told his _best friend_ that he fucking _loved_ him.

Michael had no idea where his parents were as he stumbled down the stairs and unlocked the front door with pale, trembling hands that were cracked and sore with too much washing.

It was quiet and sunny outside, and _far_ too bright for what was quite possibly the worst hangover Michael had ever experienced.

He wished he hadn’t drank so much last night.

Hell, he wished he hadn’t done a _lot_ of things.

Michael found it hard to control the anger burning in his chest too because that night at the park he’d taken himself out of the situation when he’d desperately wanted to kiss Calum but… but all of that had gone out of the window at the party.

Michael was just so fucking _upset_ with himself because it seemed like, no matter _how_ hard he tried, he always managed to slip up and tear everything to pieces… like a fucking _twister_ almost.

Michael’s eyes were burning with angry, bitter tears as he started the short walk down the pavement towards Calum’s house but, before he could even _think_ about walking up the driveway to knock on the younger boy’s door, Calum emerged from the house, carrying an empty milk bottle towards the bin as he rubbed his eyes hard with his sleeve, wincing like the sunlight was hurting _his_ eyes too.

“ _Calum_?” Michael asked weakly and the football captain stiffened.

The bottle shattered in the dust, shards of glass flying in every direction like razor-edged crystals were cascading across the dry ground instead. Michael gazed down at them, mesmerised for a moment before he became distracted by the trembling of his hands.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” Calum whispered, looking _just_ as hungover as Michael was. Calum’s face was too pale and the bags under his eyes looked like bruises as he stood there, trembling like the sun on his skin wasn’t doing anything to warm him at all.

Michael flinched at Calum’s words but his hand still drifted out towards the dark-haired boy almost unconsciously - like it had done yesterday right before he’d confessed to Calum that he _loved_ him - and when Calum literally recoiled, Michael felt like icy water had been poured over him as it ran down his back, making him shudder as his churning stomach tied itself into knots.

“Cal, I - _please_ -” Michael begged and Calum’s exhausted eyes widened like saucers as he took in the red-haired boy’s face, gripping the fence beside him like it was the only thing keeping him up anymore, because Michael _never_ begged.

That was a rule of life that Michael had set in stone way back when they were just five years old and playing in the sandpit at the park with Ashton. Michael didn’t beg and Calum loved football and Ashton hated borrowing money.

The rules were there for everyone to see and they were never broken… until now at least because, quite honestly, Michael wasn’t _that_ far from kneeling down and fucking _praying_ that Calum would talk to him again. (The only thing stopping him was his spinning head and the shattered shards of glass protruding from the dusty ground like tiny, glittering gravestones.)

“Michael, what do you _want_ from me?” Calum breathed, dropping his head into his hands for a moment and biting down hard on his bottom lip like he was fighting not to cry. “I have to go inside in a second. Mum’ll wonder where I am and she’s _already_ pissed off that I was out last night and -”

Michael interrupted Calum in a small, trembling voice that he fucking _hated_.

“I’m so sorry,” the red-haired boy breathed, staring at Calum imploringly, even as his headache pounded behind his emerald green eyes. “I’m so sorry I did that to you last night without your consent. I’m sorry I put you on the spot and said those things to you when I _knew_ you wouldn’t feel the same way. I… I’m fucking _furious_ at myself because… because I _hate_ drunk people who do shit like this and… and now I’m just as fucking bad and I made you cry and I don’t _ever_ want to make you cry and you ran away before I could apologise and I… I…”

Michael’s voice trailed away as a car drove past with the windows rolled down, music blaring too loud, and Calum was wincing at that when his dark eyes held Michael’s heavy gaze.

“Cal,” Michael breathed and Calum’s bottom lip was wobbling now as his chest heaved, like his breath was catching in his chest and _hurting_. “Cal, it… it’s _okay_. I _promise_ it’s okay. We can just forget this even happened and… and it’s _okay_. I just… I can’t _lose_ you.”

Michael hung his head, felt like fucking shit because he couldn’t _stand_ to be the source of the abject anguish he could see whirling in Calum’s tormented eyes now.

Michael wished he hadn’t said it.

The kiss alone would have been bad enough - fucking _great_ enough if Michael was being honest with himself but he was trying not to think about that part - but telling Calum he loved him was _way_ too fucking heavy for a shitty high school party on a Friday night when neither of them were _really_ ready to deal with these feelings yet (or _ever_ ).

Michael wasn’t surprised he’d blurted it out though because the words were _true_ and it made his heart ache, having to play his feelings down like this now.

Calum’s inner turmoil was evident on his face and, despite the _millions_ of responses Michael had been preparing himself for, the one Calum gave him wasn’t even _close_ to what he’d been expecting.

“I - I don’t -” Calum shook his head, blinked back tears as his dark, messy curls fell into his eyes as the sun beat down on him, withering and burning and _sullen_ from its place in the sky. “We can _try.”_

Calum’s voice came out choked because he was crying now and Michael didn’t want this at _all_.

He just wanted Calum to be _happy_ \- because the dark-haired boy was so fucking important and Michael adored him and… and, damnit, this was what had started all of the trouble in the _first_ place… Michael and his stupid fucking _feelings_.

The tears were rolling down Calum’s pale cheeks like rain and he was shaking like a leaf in the wind now, clutching the fence so tightly that his knuckles were whiter than the paint covering the wood.

Michael looked at the tendons standing out in Calum’s hands, saw the muscles shifting in his arms before he let his eyes drift down to where the fence disappeared into the grass. Michael watched the jade green strands shift in the breeze, watched them sway and dance as he cleared his throat, fighting for composure.

“Forget it,” he croaked but his words were without venom. “No, Cal. That’s not fair… on _either_ of us.”

Michael didn’t want this if Calum was only saying it to try and make him happy and - and that was what it all boiled down to in the end.

Calum was putting Michael’s feelings before his own and that was never, _ever_ okay. Michael figured that maybe it was time for _him_ to try that for a change.

He couldn’t let Calum give him this. It was _beyond_ selfish.

“No,” Michael whispered again and he had to blink back the tears that were threatening to boil over. “I’m so sorry, Calum.”

The dark-haired boy half-ran back to his house, darting through the broken glass with a choked-off sob that he tried in vain to hide.

Michael watched with pain clear in his face as he saw the front door shut and Calum slide down it on the other side - very visible through the frosted panes of glass - before he sank onto the floor in the hallway, still sobbing like his heart was breaking.

Michael kind of wanted to walk in front of a car but he forced himself to walk back home on numb legs instead.

He shut and locked the door again - and touching the handle bothered him this time, made him want to wash his hands in fucking _bleach_ because he was stressed and it was eating away at his heart like acid and - _damnit_ , Michael couldn’t fucking _take_ this!

He stamped upstairs, slamming his door too-hard behind him and releasing a frustrated growl when that did absolutely _nothing_ to lessen the burning restlessness settling in his veins.

He turned his Xbox on and slumped down onto his bed instead, turning the volume up way too loud and soaking himself in the screams and rattle of automatic gunfire as he shot zombies at close-range until he felt numb enough to go and take some painkillers for his head.

It was a long, _long_ day.

Michael just wanted it to be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really like this update at all but hopefully it's okay...  
> And thank you guys so much for reading - please let me know what you think <3


	16. Clouded Her Brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _The dark-haired boy bit down hard on his bottom lip, hugging his pillow to his chest in the darkness as he rolled onto his side, curling up into a little ball. His lips burnt where Michael had kissed them. His eyes burnt too but that was with tears._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry it's been so long and that this is so short. things are kind of hard at the moment but i want to keep updating <3  
> i hope you'll enjoy x

**_And there's a storm you're starting now,_ **

**_And there's a storm you're starting._ **

_\- Hurricane, Halsey_

 

Calum barely slept that night.

He heard Mali stumble in at around two, clearly very drunk as she tripped up the stairs, mumbling and shushing herself as she staggered over the threshold into her bedroom and knocked the door shut behind her.

Calum hated the rare occasions when she got like this because it usually meant that she was going to leave again soon, indicated another breakdown like muggy air and dark clouds indicated storms. Mali was a hurricane, wreaking destruction on everything in her path as the rain clouded her brain and the lightning threatened to tear her apart at the seams.

Calum kind of _wanted_ her to go then, wanted her to leave to be with Harry if it meant that she’d be safe and whole again. Calum wanted her to be happy more than he wanted _anything_.

Maybe that was why he didn’t feel like he could tell her about what had happened with Michael at the party.

Calum stared up at the ceiling in the dark, blinking his wet eyes as he traced the lines in the plaster on the ceiling with his weary gaze. It had rained enough outside that the clouds had fallen away and the stars were glimmering softly.

Calum could hear his parents’ heavy breathing as they slept down the hall, could hear the gentle snuffling of an exhausted, feebly-sobbing Mali as she passed out in her bed.

Calum’s thoughts were still with his parents though - or parents in general really - but he quickly tried to distract himself before he could wander down the twisted, shadowy path that always stretched out in front of him whenever he let himself think of just how messed up his relationship with David and Joy was.

Calum thought about Ashton’s parents as he lay there restlessly in his bed, watching as the illuminated numbers of his clock flicked towards three in the morning. Calum didn’t remember Ashton’s dad really - he knew the faceless man had left when Ashton was just a little kid - but Ashton’s mum was still around, presumably taking care of Ashton and the older boy’s younger siblings, Harry and Lauren. Calum didn’t really see Anne Irwin anymore though.

The dark-haired boy hadn’t been round Ashton’s house in a long time - it was kind of an unspoken rule that Calum and Michael weren’t really welcome there anymore and that they didn’t really go round to each other’s houses either, _especially_ when family members were home.

Calum wondered if that was fucked up, the fact that they felt the need to hide even their friendship because the people who had _raised_ them disapproved of it.

The dark-haired boy bit down hard on his bottom lip, hugging his pillow to his chest in the darkness as he rolled onto his side, curling up into a little ball. His lips burnt where Michael had kissed them. His eyes burnt too but that was with tears.

Michael didn’t talk about his mother anymore.

He’d sounded happy once, had gone off into these long rambling explanations about stupid pranks he’d played on her or funny things she’d said, but now he was silent, sad… _haunted_ almost, on those rare occasions when someone brought her up.

Calum had asked once, a few weeks previously, had just casually gripped Michael’s shoulder and said: “How’s your mum? I haven’t seen her in a while.” He’d been expecting a crude comment, a stupid joke and a shoulder bumping against his own but, instead, all the dark-haired had received was a soft, sad laugh and a: “Oh, don’t worry about her. _She’s_ fine.”

Calum worried about that, felt the subtle fear for Michael’s wellbeing clawing inside him as it slotted perfectly alongside the concern Calum felt for Ashton.

The anxiety was eating away inside Calum and making his stomach churn with nausea, and he gave up on sleep when the numbers on his clock flicked to four in the morning, and his dark eyes were gritty and itching with tears.

Calum rolled out of bed two hours later, dressing in a daze and running a shaking hand through his limp brown hair. His eyes were bloodshot and sunken in his pale face.

He didn’t want to see Michael after what had happened. He knew it had only been because the red-haired boy had been drunk out of his mind and Calum had fucked everything up, had bleated out a pathetic, snivelling: “ _We can try_.”

Calum shook his head, furious with himself as he checked that all of his textbooks were in his bag and retied his shoelaces before letting himself out into the cool quiet of the morning, heading for the park which he met his two best friends outside of on a daily basis.

Calum left his lunchbox at home in the fridge that day.

He didn’t eat breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this was okay - please let me know what you thought <3  
> also, if you guys ever want to talk or something, please don't hesitate to message me because im always here for you i promise x


	17. Bloodless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Things were different now though._  
>  _Ashton was small and sad, and Calum was tall and frightened, and Michael kept fucking things up._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this is really poor then I'm sorry but I'm feeling incredibly unmotivated at the moment so I'm very sorry that it's taken me so long to upload.  
> I promise new, more exciting things _are_ set to happen soon - it just might take a little while for me to write them.  
>  Thank you for sticking around <3

**_Lately her face seems,_ **

**_Slowly sinking, wasting,_ **

**_Crumbling like pastries._ **

_\- The A Team, Ed Sheeran_

 

Michael was running late again.

He met Calum and Ashton outside the park everyday so that they could walk to school together, only Michael had been up too late playing more zombie shooting games the night before and his alarm hadn’t gone off that morning so it had been pure chance - otherwise known as his mother shouting up the stairs at him - that he’d even woken up in time at all.

Michael was panting when he reached the park but he needn’t have worried. It was only Calum standing there with his back pressed against the fence, brooding and quiet with his arms folded and his dark curls falling across his forehead.

Calum looked like he hadn’t had much sleep but, before Michael could decide whether he wanted to be concerned or defensive - because honestly he was still _so_ fucking embarrassed that he’d put his oldest best friend in such a difficult position - Ashton had shown up too, ten minutes late and gasping out apologies as he clutched at a stitch in his side.

Michael knew the older boy had to drop his younger siblings off at school before meeting up with them and it looked like Ashton had ran from their school.

“Sorry I’m late,” the curly-haired boy gasped out as he struggled to catch his breath, confirming Michael’s suspicions. “I had to drop the kids off.”

“Couldn’t your mum have done that?” Michael asked curiously, frowning, and Ashton’s discomfort was so evident on his face that Michael didn’t even _notice_ that the older boy wasn’t dressed in his school uniform until Calum pointed it out with a frown on his face.

“What? No school today, Ashton? _Again_?”

Calum spoke in the same disappointed tone that Michael’s mother Karen took great delight in adopting at every possible occasion and seeing the shame flaming on Ashton’s face kind of _hurt _Michael because he knew how his friend felt.__

Their exams were almost a year away but Karen was already trying (and failing) to make him revise now, and Michael’s father Daryl just bowed his head and let her impose whatever rules she wanted. It sucked but at least Michael could escape it when he was with his friends… but it didn’t look like Ashton could say the same with Calum talking to him like that.

Michael sighed deeply, hanging his head and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Just having one of those days?” the red-haired boy asked Ashton awkwardly but his voice came out rougher than he’d intended due to the lump that had just risen in his throat. Michael couldn’t exactly help it though because it fucking _hurt_ seeing Ashton so sad.

It was only getting worse though and, as the weeks had trickled by, the already-faint light glowing in the older boy’s hazel eyes had dimmed.

Ashton was quiet and pale, and he looked exhausted and fucking _lost_. He wouldn’t wear short sleeves anymore and he winced sometimes, like he was hurting. Michael was terrified of what it meant and he knew Calum was too because they spoke about it sometimes, wondered fearfully together about what was going on inside Ashton’s head without ever bringing it up with their best friend because they knew it would only upset him, and that was the last thing they wanted.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Ashton mumbled suddenly, drawing Michael back to the present and reminding him that he’d asked a question and gone against Calum.

The dark-haired boy was watching Michael now actually, staring at him with this strange mixture of anger and concern and _regret_.

The red-haired boy shrugged internally, figuring that since he’d already done this much damage he might as well continue, and it wasn’t difficult at all to persuade Ashton to skip first class - like he’d already presumably been intending - and get breakfast instead.

Calum put up a token fight, same as always, but his heart didn’t seem to be in it today and he just seemed _upset_ instead of angry. It was kind of beginning to scare Michael, the slightly haunted look in the football captain’s intense brown eyes as he stared almost _pleadingly_ at his two best friends, and it seemed to be putting Ashton on edge too.

Michael was glad when he and Ashton finally left Calum to go to school alone.

Their breakfast didn’t get off to a particularly good start though because the metaphorical storm cloud brewing above Ashton’s head began to rain on him and the shame on the older boy’s face when he realised that he didn’t have enough money to pay for his coffee made Michael’s chest hurt.

He wasn’t stupid enough to offer to give him the money though - Ashton had snapped at them often enough that he “ _wasn’t a fucking charity case_ ” so Michael had to say he was just lending him it instead - and the despair lingering on Ashton’s exhausted, greying face had multiplied tenfold by the time the pair of them sat down at a table by the window.

Ashton’s tired eyes were fixed on Michael’s face when he wasn’t gazing down at the table listlessly, like everything was beginning to wear him down. The older boy’s eyes were hazel and dull now, but they had been bright once, glittering like stars when Michael and Calum barely came up to Ashton’s chin.

Things were different now though.

Ashton was small and sad, and Calum was tall and frightened, and Michael kept fucking things up.

He’d always been good at that though, if his mother was to be believed, so he probably shouldn’t be surprised by that fact.

Michael wasn’t thinking about that though - all he could see in his mind’s eye was Calum, with his sorrowful chocolate brown eyes and the startled look on his face in the moments before he melted into the kiss at that party and -

Michael’s shoulders slumped and he tore the croissant he had bought to pieces, and he’d barely let the mindless destruction begin to numb him when Ashton spoke up and ruined the younger boy’s perfect calm.

“Mikey, are you okay?”

Michael was definitely _not_ okay but he wasn’t about to tell Ashton that so he settled for weakly deflecting instead and, when that didn’t work, Ashton just sat back and watched him with a slightly disapproving look of concern on his face.

“Is this about Calum?” Ashton asked suddenly and Michael felt the blood drain from his face, felt the anger inside him turn to terror at having been seen through so easily. Michael visibly bristled because he did _not_ like being so vulnerable.

It only got worse when he saw the sympathy on Ashton’s face though because that just made the red-haired boy feel  _upset_ and -

“Do you like him?” Ashton whispered and, against his better judgement, Michael nodded numbly.

Without really understanding why, Michael told Ashton everything, spoke in this dazed little voice as he stared at his best friend through dark eyes sunken in his bloodless cheeks.

Michael hated that he felt like he was going to cry when he recounted what had happened at the party, fucking _loathed_ himself when he told Ashton that he’d said to Calum that he loved him because the older boy was fighting for composure now and Michael was a fucking _idiot_ for putting **both** of his best friends in such awkward positions and -

“I’m sorry,” Ashton breathed out of nowhere, gripping the mug of coffee Michael had bought him tightly in his shaking hands, like Michael being upset was because of _him_ or something.

“What are _you_ apologising for?” Michael demanded, his voice rough because of the lump in his throat. Ashton shuddered, dropping his hands down into his lap and wincing like he was hurting.

“How do you know nothing could ever come of it?” Ashton asked instead and Michael hurt even _worse_ when he had to tell the truth because Calum had _said_ that they could try and… and Michael had told him **no**.

Ashton’s hands were shaking now and his hazel eyes were gleaming with tears but Michael couldn’t stay there anymore.

He could feel his heart pounding too-hard in his chest and his hands were itchy with the need to wash them and the croissant was clinging to them and making him want to clean them in boiling water and -

Yeah, Michael _really_ needed to fucking get out of there, before he snapped and took this out on his best friend.

Michael tidied the table on autopilot, took a tiny shred of comfort from that small action but it wasn’t _enough_ and now his pulse was thundering in his ears too, making him feel dizzy and sick.

“I’m sorry, Ash,” Michael forced out and he sounded _robotic_ almost. Unnatural. “I’m too tired to hang out now.”

Ashton’s face fell but the younger boy barely noticed as he half- _ran_ for the exit.

He didn’t know how his life had ended up like this, he really didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought <3


	18. Poisonous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum dropped his head into his shaking hands for a moment, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he fought against the ragged sob that wanted to tear out of him. His teacher was still mumbling on about tectonic plates but a girl was watching Calum anxiously from across the room and it took him a moment to identify her as Violet through the tears blurring his vision._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so short and that it took so long, and that it almost certainly wasn't worth the wait.  
> I feel really not good right now but I want to keep writing. You guys deserve way better.

**_Take me back;_ **

**_Before we all explode,_ **

**_Before we turn to stone,_ **

**_Before the light is gone._ **

_\- These Days, Take That_

 

Maybe it wasn’t just a bad day or week or even _month_.

Maybe it was just a bad life.

Those were the thoughts circling Calum’s head as he slumped down at his desk in geography, staring down at the tabletop and scratching distractedly at a grain of wood on the desk as the teacher droned on in front of him.

He wondered what Michael and Ashton were doing, wandering alone around town when they _should_ be focusing on their work like Calum was doing. He wondered when Mali was going to leave too, pictured her pink bedroom emptied of everything she loved so much… pictured himself left behind.

It would be a reality soon too.

Calum would stay trapped on the sidelines, watching as his sister - his best friend in the whole wide world - tore herself away and left him. It was the same with Michael and Ashton, he was fairly certain, because they would leave him just like they had right now and Calum would just about drown in loneliness.

He wanted to play his bass guitar again too, wanted to scoop it up from where it was collecting dust in the corner of his room and play music but he hadn’t written a song for ages. The thought jumped randomly into his head, joining the rest of the chaos and adding to it as Calum sat there slumped in his seat… thinking longingly about his guitar… thinking about how sad Michael and Ashton looked… thinking about how fucking _angry_ Calum made himself.

He just felt so damn _alone_ and he _knew_ how easy it would be to remedy.

He could have gone along with Michael and Ashton easily. He could even tell Mali how he was feeling and beg her to stay… or to let him come with her maybe but… but he just _didn’t_ because Calum could see how hopeless he was - how fucking _poisonous_ \- and he wouldn’t inflict his company on anyone.

His eyes were burning now, filling with boiling tears that were threatening to burn over and scald his cheeks and… and he was in _class_ , damnit! He was in fucking _geography_ and he was about to start crying because he _still_ couldn’t learn to get his damn emotions under control, and he desperately _needed_ to because he was being too obvious and it wasn’t okay.

Calum dropped his head into his shaking hands for a moment, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he fought against the ragged sob that wanted to tear out of him. His teacher was still mumbling on about tectonic plates but a girl was watching Calum anxiously from across the room and it took him a moment to identify her as Violet through the tears blurring his vision.

Calum glared down at the tabletop, wondered if Michael cared more than he’d let on that day after the party - maybe he _hadn’t_ been as drunk as he said - and Calum realised that Michael must feel how _wrong_ everything was between them now… how fucked up they were and… and it was _hurting_ Calum - a real icy pain in his chest - because everything used to be so fucking _simple_ but it just _wasn’t_ anymore.

Calum’s could feel Violet’s dark eyes fixed anxiously on his tear-streaked face but he kept his blurry gaze fixed stubbornly on the desk as his tears smudged the ink of his notes.

Calum’s heart felt like it was tearing itself apart in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this wasn't too awful...  
> Thank you for sticking around. I know it can't be easy but it means so much, I promise.


	19. Wildfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“I love you,” Calum promised thickly – and that made it even_ harder _not to break down because it reminded him of **Michael** and – no, Calum could _ not _think about this now or he’d fucking_ lose _it._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is angsty but nicer than the update from last night.  
> Sorry about that. I wasn't feeling so great.  
> Hopefully this one is okay <3

_**Still I can’t escape this feeling that something ain’t right.** _

_**Why don’t you think before you speak?** _

_**‘Cause you don’t know me at all.** _

_**You don’t know me at all.** _

_\- Tidal Waves, All Time Low_

 

By the end of the day, the panic in Calum’s veins had faded to anxiety although the worries swirling around in his head never entirely faded. He just felt guilty about that morning now, remembered how he’d snapped at Ashton when he’d shown up without his uniform on because he didn’t want to go to school.

Calum knew how tough Ashton was finding things at the moment. He shouldn’t have had a go at him.

The guys from the football team had invited Calum to get pizza with them after school that day and, despite his better judgement, the dark-haired boy actually went with them.

Ashton wasn’t there of course, despite being their goalkeeper and that kind of made Calum sad because Ashton shone so fucking brightly but none of them ever saw it.

The evening dragged on unpleasantly and Calum pretty much sat on his phone the whole time anyway, ordering a pizza to be polite but barely picking at the crust. He had no appetite really. He was too caught up in his own head and his stomach was full to bursting with nervous butterflies so food wasn’t really an option.

“Cal?” someone asked and he looked up at them without seeing, his eyes glazed with exhaustion and emptiness. “You okay, cap? You’ve barely touched your pizza.”

“Not really hungry,” Calum said, closing the cardboard box slowly and feeling relieved when the food was hidden from sight. “Guys, would you mind if I just headed home? I’m knackered.”

“You look like you’re about to crash,” one of the other guys muttered and Calum took that as confirmation that they wouldn’t care.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” the football captain said, rising and taking his pizza box with him because he’d just had an idea.

Calum slipped his phone out of his pocket once he was standing out on the street. His stomach was twisting itself into knots and he felt _weak_.

Calum walked a short way down the road so that the team couldn’t see him before he let his head fall back to rest against a brick wall as he typed out a message to Ashton:

**hey bud – just had some pizza with some of the football guys. sucks that you werent there but i couldn’t tell you because you werent at school today... i brought leftovers though – is it okay if i stop by? i’m sorry we kind of argued earlier. luv ya. cal**

Calum felt like a bit of an arsehole when he pressed send because Ashton not being at school wasn’t the only reason he hadn’t been invited. The other guys just didn’t seem to care about him all that much, because Ashton was quiet and shy and sweet-natured, and he never spoke up unless someone talked to him first.

He was easy to forget and Calum thought that was maybe the most unfair thing about all of this.

When Ashton texted him back a simple: ‘ **yes please hurry up** ’, Calum felt the worry inside him hardening into something colder and more afraid at his best friend’s less-than-casual tone.

Calum jogged to Ashton’s house with the cooling pizza held carefully in its box.

The night was cold and the sky was almost fully dark by the time Calum reached Ashton’s street.

It was lined with small, cramped houses, most of which were rundown and dilapidated. Litter blew across the deserted road on the breeze and Calum pulled his jacket a little tighter around himself as he kept his head down.

It wasn’t the nicest part of town and he knew his best friend was very insecure of that fact. It seemed to upset him even more than struggling for money did.

By the time Calum knocked on Ashton’s door, the nervousness inside him was fairly faint – just a slight buzzing if he tried to focus on it, like wasps stinging inside his head – but that all went to shit when Ashton wrenched the door open with red cheeks and frantic hazel eyes as he clutched at his chest like he couldn’t breathe.

Calum’s hands were shaking as he set the pizza box down and shut the front door behind him, cupping Ashton’s face gently in his hands and looking at him intently.

“Ash, buddy, what is this?” Calum asked gently and the humiliation in Ashton’s eyes hurt to _look_ at but Calum didn’t look away.

“Just… a… panic… attack,” Ashton gasped out, still pulling at the front of his long-sleeved shirt like it hurt to draw a breath in. Calum’s forced calm splintered away and his legs were shaking beneath him as he led Ashton into the living room.

“Happens… all… the… time,” Ashton breathed shakily, gripping the taller boy’s shoulder like it was all that was keeping him upright anymore.

Calum’s worry flared inside him like wildfire because he hadn’t even realised that this was something Ashton _suffered_ with but, suddenly, everything made sense.

“How long has this been going on for?” Calum asked weakly but he didn’t give Ashton a chance to answer, shaking his head as anger directed inwards flooded him.

“I’m sorry, Ash,” Calum whispered because this was _horrible_ and he shouldn’t be stressing Ashton out further now.

Calum sighed with relief when Ashton curled up beside him on the sofa, burrowing under the taller boy’s arm and clinging to him. Calum shifted a little bit uncomfortably – he didn’t like Ashton holding him like this because the older boy could no doubt feel how fat Calum was – but he knew Ashton needed the comfort and Calum wasn’t going to make the poor thing let go any time soon.

Ashton’s breath was still tearing out of him raggedly and Calum fought down against his own panic because he didn’t know what he could do to _help_.

Ashton’s mother Anne was out working – she worked the nightshift at the supermarket in town – and, as that thought crossed his mind, Calum spotted an empty wine bottle lying on the floor beside the sofa but he forced himself to ignore that, keeping his voice low so that he didn’t wake Ashton’s presumably-sleeping siblings upstairs.

Calum felt utterly out of his depth but he held Ashton close since the older boy _clearly_ needed the physical comfort. Calum had no idea how to help but he knew he couldn’t do _nothing_.

“Look, just… just copy my breathing,” Calum said softly, fighting to keep his voice calm as he stroked Ashton’s soft curls. “Okay?” Ashton let out a shuddering gasp and Calum held him closer, cupping his face again and really concentrating on keeping his breathing steady. “Really slowly like this,” Calum murmured and Ashton’s eyes filled with tears as he let his forehead fall to rest against the football captain’s shoulder.

It took almost ten minutes before Ashton’s panicky breathing finally calmed.

Calum slumped back against the sofa cushions in relief, holding a limp Ashton gently to his chest as he rubbed the smaller boy’s back in calming circles. Calum felt his heart clutch in his chest when Ashton’s breath caught again and the dark-haired boy’s alarm must have been evident on his face because Ashton seemed to shrink back.

Calum’s eyes softened when he saw the older boy’s face though because Ashton wasn’t panicking again at all. He was just trying not to cry.

“Ash,” Calum said weakly and his own eyes were swimming with tears as he pulled Ashton gently into his lap. Calum hadn’t seen Ashton cry since they were just little kids and it kind of hurt to see him fighting to suppress his emotions now.

“It’s alright, Ash,” Calum said softly, carding his fingers through the older boy’s hair and dropping a kiss onto Ashton’s sweaty forehead. “It’s okay to cry.”

Ashton was silent, watching Calum with tear-filled _agonised_ eyes as his lips moved silently, like he was repeating the words.

The tears in Ashton’s eyes overflowed slowly until, suddenly, he was crying, great heaving sobs that seemed to come from so deep inside him that they were tearing him apart.

Calum held Ashton tightly, rocking him gently in his arms as he pressed an even wetter kiss to Ashton’s forehead as he fought not to cry himself.

“I love you,” Calum promised thickly – and that made it even _harder_ not to break down because it reminded him of **Michael** and – no, Calum could _not_ think about this now or he’d fucking _lose_ it.

“I love you too,” Ashton sobbed out but his reddened eyes were glazed now and he looked exhausted.

“Let me get you some water,” Calum said softly, pushing Ashton gently back into the pillows and venturing off into the unlit kitchen.

He found a glass after a few moments of searching – Calum hadn’t been round to Ashton’s house for a _long_ time now – and filled it with water, carrying it back to the older boy who was looking ashamed of himself now, scrubbing his cheeks raw with his too-long sleeves as he tried to hide any trace of tears.

Calum kissed him on the cheek when he sat down beside him, wrapping his arm around Ashton’s waist and breathing another quiet sigh of relief when the smaller boy melted back against him as he sipped his water.

“I’m sorry,” Ashton breathed, his voice hoarse from crying. His face looked gaunt when Calum looked down at him and it _scared_ the football captain, made him think that maybe Ashton wasn’t being looked after properly.

Calum’s dark eyes found the empty wine bottle on the floor and his heart clenched in his chest.

He thought maybe Ashton wasn’t being looked after at _all_.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Calum said softly, his voice still thick with tears. “I _promise_.”

Ashton’s hazel eyes got teary again but he seemed to be fighting against them as he choked out a: “Thank you” that Calum _definitely_ didn’t deserve.

“Did you bring pizza?” Ashton breathed, his eyes hopeful in his unusually pale face as he covered his mouth with his sleeves. Calum nodded, his lips twitching into a watery smile as he disappeared into the hallway to retrieve the box.

“It’s pepperoni,” the football captain said, setting the box down on Ashton’s lap and ruffling his curls ruefully as he sat cross-legged beside him.

Ashton looked at the bit of crust that Calum had torn apart before his eyes drifted across the rest of the pizza.

”You weren’t hungry?” he asked gently, his voice innocent. Calum shrugged, sitting back further on the sofa and pulling a cushion into his lap as he gestured for Ashton to dig in.

“I don’t get hungry much these days.” Calum shook his head when Ashton opened his mouth to speak and the older boy fell quiet as he nibbled on a slice of pizza, closing his eyes like it tasted really good, like maybe he hadn’t eaten properly in a long time.

The silence stretched between them.

“What happened, Ashy?” Calum asked softly, breaking it when the ticking of the clock on the wall started to make him feel uncomfortable.

Ashton looked much calmer now, cuddled up with his glass of water and the pepperoni pizza balanced in the box on his folded knees.

“Had a bad fight with mum,” the older boy mumbled after a moment, blinking to clear his hazel eyes of tears as he tore away another bite of pizza, swallowing audibly past the lump in his throat.

“What about?” Calum asked before he could stop himself, hoping belatedly that he wasn’t being too insensitive. The _last_ thing he wanted to do was upset Ashton again.

“She doesn’t act like a mum anymore.”

The words were whispered, so quiet that Calum had to strain to hear them and, when he did, he felt something a lot like ice trickling down his spine as his own mother’s face swam before his dark eyes.

“What do you mean?” Calum breathed but Ashton refused to speak again and that only added to the worry burning through Calum’s stomach, making it churn with nausea.

The football captain fought to exude calmness again though, not wanting to make Ashton panic, and when he stroked the older boy’s curls away from his forehead as he cuddled him close, he thought he’d done a relatively good job of it.

Ashton finished the pizza in record time – Calum thought maybe he’d been right about Ashton not having enough food to eat because usually the smaller boy didn’t have much of an appetite (not like Calum who fought to ignore how fucking _starving_ he felt because all he ever wanted to _do_ was eat).

Calum stayed round Ashton’s house for hours that evening, cuddled up on the sofa with him while a football match played on the tiny television that neither of them were _really_ watching.

Ashton was still clinging to Calum tightly – like a frightened _child_ almost – and Calum just kept stroking the tears away with the pads of his fingers as they continued to roll down his best friend’s cheeks, and Calum thought vaguely that maybe Ashton was making up for all of the years where he hadn’t let himself cry.

It hurt to see the curly-haired boy in that state – it bit at him like icy wind or _knives_ – but Calum managed not to lose it himself until he was walking home alone in the dark that night.

The tears boiled over and burnt down his cheeks like acid, and his breath gasped from his lungs like someone had punched him in the stomach as Calum staggered along through the darkness, sometimes gripping the garden walls he passed because they were the only thing keeping him on his feet.

None of it mattered though.

By the time Calum made it back to his house he was calm which was just what he wanted.

No one needed to know that he felt like he was sinking.

It could be his secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I'm getting back into updating this fic again which is great for me - it's been hanging over me so two updates in the same number of days is something I'm kind of proud of I guess idk.  
> Anyway I hope this was okay! Please let me know what you thought <3


	20. Blood In The Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Daryl bit down hard on his bottom lip as it started to wobble and Michael’s stomach lurched as he looked at the blood coating his hands from his split lip. He wanted to wash them in burning water, wanted to punch a wall until his knuckles broke because maybe_ then _the cold fury and fear coalescing in his chest would melt away._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I somehow managed to write three updates for this fic today when I hadn't written any for like a month.  
> Sorry about that guys, wow.  
> Consistency at its finest.

**_Oh, this is the beat of my heart._ **

**_This is the beat of my heart._ **

**_The fear of falling apart._ **

_\- This Is Gospel, Panic! At The Disco_

 

Michael’s parents were waiting for him in the kitchen when he got home that night.

He’d gone out for a few drinks with some of the guys from school who he knew through gaming; hadn’t even had to use his fake ID in the end because he hadn’t shaved so he looked less baby-faced than usual.

Michael wasn’t even _drunk_. That was the bit that annoyed him most.

He’d literally had _two_ beers and his mother was standing beside the fridge with her arms folded tightly across her chest, looking for all the world like Michael had just spat in her face and told her he was dropping out of school.

“Where have you been?”

Karen Clifford’s foot was tapping on the floor. Like, she was _actually_ tapping her foot at him in those ridiculously high heels she somehow managed to walk around in. Michael’s head was a bit fuzzy with drink but he just about managed to resist not sneering at her.

“Nowhere,” Michael said, entirely unapologetic.

All she did was moan at him and, quite honestly, Michael was tired of it.

It seemed like he couldn’t do anything right sometimes and it _sucked_ because Michael had tried to be a good kid for her once but that wasn’t enough for her anymore.

“This behaviour is disgusting,” Karen said, gesturing to all of him as her painted lip curled unpleasantly. Michael’s chest gave a little pang and he tried to frown at her but he was too busy trying to work out what he’d done to _offend_ her so badly.

Michael’s father was lingering in the doorway, his pale face downturned just like always. It was pathetic and Michael hated Daryl more than he hated anything in that moment.

He wished his father would stand up for him for once. He wished it wasn’t _necessary_.

Michael wished for a lot of things.

“You should have stayed in and done your homework,” Karen said, her voice one of icy calm. Her heels clicked when she crossed the tiled floor towards him and her hand was cool as she cupped his cheek with it. Michael resisted the urge to pull away as she peered at him closely. “You’re drunk.”

“I‘m not,” Michael mumbled sullenly, trying to drop his gaze but quickly discovering that that was impossible with the way Karen’s hand tightened on her son’s jaw.

“Who were you out with?” she asked softly. Michael winced when she gripped his face harder.

“Just guys from school,” Michael offered after a long moment, glancing towards his father for help and withering when he saw Daryl’s eyes fixed resolutely on his feet.

“ _Boys_?” Karen’s lip curled and her expression twisted with anger and disgust. She looked at Daryl, shook her head with disappointment and waited for him to unwillingly do the same before she looked back at Michael again.

”It wasn’t _like_ that,” the red-haired boy said reproachfully.

“What happened to you?” she asked, her voice _gentle_ almost before her nails bit into his cheek. Michael winced, pulling away as he eyed her warily. She got like this sometimes - so mad that she became spiteful - and he didn’t even think she realised she was doing it half the time... or maybe she just didn't care.

“You used to be such a good boy,” Karen said quietly. Daryl opened his mouth, like he was maybe _finally_ going to speak up, but he shut it with a snap when Karen’s fiery eyes snapped to his face and away again.

“I can’t help it that nothing I ever do will be good enough for you!” Michael argued but his tone was despairing and hopeless now, and Karen was like a shark. She smelt blood in the water and she was coming straight for him.

She caught him unawares, hitting him hard enough that he stumbled backwards, slipping on the tiles and hitting his face on the counter. His lip burst and Michael slumped down onto all fours, spitting blood on his mother’s pretty white tiles as his head started to pound where he’d hit it.

“ _Karen_!” Daryl gasped in shock and his wife’s high heels tapped across the floor again. Michael flinched away, staggering to his feet and gripping the edge of the counter hard as his head swam.

“ _Mum_?!” The word tasted bitter in his mouth and Michael spat blood again. “You… you can’t _do_  that.”

Karen fixed him with a cold look as, behind her, Daryl literally tore at his thinning hair, staring at his only son with pain clear in his watery green eyes.

“You can’t blame me for trying to knock some sense into you,” she said sharply, her voice cold. Karen spun to face Daryl. “Take him to your brother’s and - for the love of god - make up a lie about his face. He’s been out _drinking_ -” Her voice twisted around the word like it was something dirty. “- so it shouldn’t be too hard to convince the fool.”

Daryl bit down hard on his bottom lip as it started to wobble and Michael’s stomach lurched as he looked at the blood coating his hands from his split lip. He wanted to wash them in burning water, wanted to punch a wall until his knuckles broke because maybe _then_ the cold fury and fear coalescing in his chest would melt away.

“Take him there now, Daryl,” Karen said coldly as she fixed Michael with a brief scathing look. “He’s bleeding on my floor.”

Michael wished he could say that he couldn’t believe his mother had hit him but it just wasn’t the case.

She’d been angry and unreasonable with him for years. It only stood to reason that she would attempt to do this to him too.

Michael’s bruised jaw was set as he stalked past her out of the kitchen, fighting not to reveal his pain or dizziness. He was _not_ going to show any weakness in front of her.

“Mike,” Daryl breathed, opening the front door and ushering his son out into the night.

It was cold out there and it made Michael’s head swim as his stomach churned with nausea. His lip was burning now and all he could taste was blood, and it was fucking _foul_.

The pair were quiet as they climbed into the car.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Daryl whispered but Michael turned away as a bitter tear rolled down his cheek, pressing his burning face to the cool glass of the window.

“Go to hell,” Michael gasped out through his tears.

The rest of the journey was silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you don't hate me too much for this update... I guess you probably will though...  
> Please let me know what you think! <3


	21. Jaywalking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum knew it hadn't come out right but he couldn't_ help _it if he was frightened. He just wanted Ashton to be okay again, like he had been back when they were younger._  
>  _Calum wanted that for_ all _of them. He wanted to rewind back to the start, back before everything had been turned on its fucking head._  
>  _Calum's heart ached._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. I'm trying really hard at the moment but everything is kind of slipping away so updating is taking a bit longer. I hope you still enjoy this.

**_I'm in the business of misery,_ **

**_Let's take it from the top._ **

_\- Misery Business, Paramore_

 

Something stopped Calum from telling Michael about what had happened at Ashton’s house the night before, when he'd broken down and lay sobbing in the dark-haired boy's arms all night. The football captain didn’t know whether it was the Michael’s tear-streaked face or something else but he stayed silent and Ashton seemed grateful for it.

Calum was still doing his best to be extra nice to the smaller boy though. He carried Ashton's textbooks to his locker for him and he split his dessert with him at lunch, stealthily disposing of what remained on his own plate as Ashton hesitantly nibbled at the slice of chocolate cake.

Calum was sure Michael had noticed although, to be fair, the red-haired boy seemed more than a little preoccupied.

Calum was worried about him too, worried about the faint bruise on Michael's cheekbone and the way he kept touching his split lip, like it was hurting him. Calum didn't know what had happened - Michael didn't offer the information and neither Calum not Ashton wanted to probe - but Calum didn't like the growing sadness he could see swimming in Michael's emerald green eyes.

Calum _hated_ that his two best friends were hurting but he hated himself more. He should have done more to help them probably. He felt fucking _useless_.

If Mali was here, he knew she'd have known what to do. She would've sat him down and given him advice, and he wouldn't have felt like everything was slowly threatening to crush him.

Calum's head was spinning with all of his worries and it refused to clear even when they had football training fourth period. Calum fumbled an easy pass and the ball struck him hard on the chin, and it brought tears to his eyes but they were tears of _fury_ that he couldn't even get this right.

He saw it reflected back at him in Ashton's eyes, the self-loathing and the hatred of failure, and that only set Calum's thoughts whirling _faster_.

Ashton had promised he felt better when Calum had asked him that morning but the football captain was quite certain Ashton was lying. The worries kept his eyes from drooping shut in science like they did sometimes (although the tension and concern rolling off of Violet in waves helped too no doubt) and Calum felt _sick_ with it by the time he left school that day.

Calum kept thinking of the night before, kept remembering the wine bottle and the argument Ashton had mentioned. He thought about the curly-haired boy's stress, and Calum couldn't help but wonder if he was putting two and two together and coming up with five hundred.

He wondered if he was wrong again.

Calum was silent as he left school with Michael and Ashton. The day was bright but cool. Calum's bag was heavy on his shoulder but his empty heart weighed even more in his chest as it painstakingly crushed the air from his lungs.

“You don’t need to go and pick Harry and Lauren up today?” Calum asked Ashton as the three of them crossed the road, jaywalking between a slowly-approaching bus and a cyclist. The football captain realised he was barking up the right tree when Ashton's pale face immediately twisted into confused defensiveness. Michael was frowning too though, glancing between them uncertainly and biting at his split lip as Calum watched Ashton guiltily.

The curly-haired boy was clearly on edge, tense and bristling, coiled as tightly as a spring.

"Is your mum working tonight too?” Calum asked as they neared the end of his and Michael's road. He flinched when Ashton exploded at him, spinning around as he yelled: "Calum, what the _fuck_?!"

Calum knew it hadn't come out right but he couldn't _help_ it if he was frightened. He just wanted Ashton to be okay again, like he had been back when they were younger.

Calum wanted that for _all_ of them. He wanted to rewind back to the start, back before everything had been turned on its fucking head.

Calum's heart ached.

“Cal, he’s right," Michael said uneasily, coming to a slow stop. "What’s with the twenty questions?”

Calum knew he'd well and truly put his foot in it now - he could see it in Ashton's squared jaw and the tears brimming in his hazel eyes and - and _fuck_ , Calum hadn't meant for this to happen.

He hadn't meant it at all.

“I’m just _worried_ , okay?" Calum exclaimed desperately, only making things worse now probably because he was a mess and apparently screwing things up was all he was any good at. "Look, you were _really_ upset last night and I’m just scared that you’re –”

Calum fell silent, choking on his words because he could see the betrayal in Ashton's eyes now - and the hurt and confusion in Michael's when he realised that he'd been left out of something important - and Calum thought that it only stood to reason that he'd made a mess of this too.

“You were upset last night, Ash? Why? What happened?” Michael asked sadly and his eyes were earnest in his pale face, and so soft that Calum wanted the ground to swallow him whole, wanted the cars passing by to veer off the road and hit him because he couldn't fucking take the _pain_ of this anymore.

Ashton opened his mouth like he was going to reply but he seemed to change his mind at the last moment. The goalkeeper spun on his heel, almost kicking up dust as he hurtled away, and Calum felt his mortification carving itself into his face as he and Michael stood frozen on the pavement, watching in shocked concern as the smaller boy staggered away.

"Let him go," Michael breathed when Calum took a stumbling step forward and that made the tears in Calum's eyes burn over because he'd known Ashton for longer but Michael was a much better friend than he would _ever_ be. He knew Ashton so well.

He knew _Calum_.

"What happened last night?" Michael asked in a quiet little voice that hinted at pain.

Calum's jaw tightened and he swallowed convulsively past the lump in his throat.

Ashton was gone now.

"I went round and... and he couldn't breathe," Calum whispered and he gave a half shrug, sniffing as a tear rolled down his cheek. The pain in his chest was too much and he didn't know how to let it out and... and _feeling_ was too agonising now so it was better to embrace the comforting numbness that was smothering him like a shroud. "He was having a panic attack, Mike. And then he cried. He fucking _sobbed_ and... and I'd never seen him cry before. I didn't know what to do."

"I'm sure you did everything you could," Michael said uncomfortably and Calum's watery laugh was a touch hysterical.

"Oh, _are_ you?!" Calum demanded and the vaguely dubious doubt on Michael's face felt like ice around Calum's heart.

"We don't have time for this," Michael muttered but his emerald eyes were fixed on the road where Ashton had disappeared. "We need to make sure he's okay."

They tried ringing Ashton several times each but he ignored them and, while Calum couldn't say he was _surprised_ , it still frightened him more than he could say. He was afraid that Ashton would run into the road without looking, that he would get so upset that he would end up accidentally _hurting_ himself or -

"I have a text," Michael said suddenly, just as Calum felt his own mobile vibrating in his pocket with a message.

They were from Ashton.

" **I'm fine. Sorry. It was a long day. I'm okay now. Don't worry.** "

Michael's bruised face was still uneasy and Calum couldn't blame him. The message seemed _robotic_ almost, like maybe _Ashton_ didn't want to let himself feel either.

Calum stumbled home beside Michael in silence with his stomach knotting and churning sickeningly.

Calum's guilt was eating away at him.

He wanted to fall asleep and never wake up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought if anyone is still here...


	22. Nervous Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“I think we should go get a coffee this evening… talk some stuff through…” Calum looked like he felt faintly sick as those words left him and Michael couldn’t say he blamed him because the request had set_ dread _unfurling icily in his stomach. “Because… things can’t go on like this, Mikey. They just_ can’t _.”_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twice I had to stop writing this fic because it hurt too much... and twice I've wanted to start again because I miss it.  
> I don't know what it is about Tempest but... I can't let it go. I can't fucking let it go. So I'm going to be a hypocrite. I told you guys that stopping writing the fic wasn't an easy decision and that I was going to stick by it, and that was absolute bullshit. So... yeah... I'm sorry about that. But I can't leave it.  
> I don't know how often I'll update and this most likely won't be my main focus because this fic is fucking _heavy_ to carry but... it felt wrong leaving it. I don't know why. But it feels very important to me that I finish this fic.  
>  I can't leave Tempest unfinished. I hope maybe some of you will stick around to read it.
> 
>  **EDIT:** I've spent the last couple of days editing this fic, reading back over it and trying to get back to date. It made me miss it even more.  
>  God, I hope I can do Tempest justice. I love it so much.  
> I hope you will too.

**_I know that hope weighs on your mind, lost within the seams._ **

**_It seems like we lose ourselves in between,_ **

**_But the harder things become, the harder you push away._ **

**_Oh, baby, yeah, baby, it kills me._ **

_\- You Kill Me (In A Good Way), Sleeping With Sirens_

 

Michael was trying _hard_ not to be offended at the fact that Calum and Ashton hadn’t told him about the panic attack the oldest boy had had the night before but it was kind of difficult. Michael was supposed to be their best friend - _through it all_ \- but apparently that didn’t mean very much anymore.

Calum skyped Michael that evening, just before Karen started calling up the stairs that it was time for dinner. Michael ignored her, slamming his bedroom door shut and angrily shovelling tortilla chips into his mouth from the bag he’d snagged on the way upstairs once he’d got in from school. He wasn’t sitting eating dinner with his family today. No way on earth.

Michael was fucking _sick_ of playing happy families with them. His uncle Graham was the only relative he felt close to anymore. Not Karen and Daryl. They could go fuck themselves as far as Michael was concerned.

Despite his impudence though, Michael’s heart still shuddered in his chest when Calum’s incoming skype call popped up on his laptop screen. (The skype calls still happened most days, just like they always had, but they were incredibly awkward now and Michael wondered if this was a habit that they simply _couldn’t_ break. Michael half wished Calum wouldn’t bother.)

Swallowing the nervous butterflies rising inside him, Michael answered the call.

“Hey, Cal,” he said gruffly, snagging one of the tortilla chips from the bag and resisting the urge to crumble it between his fingers because his anti-bacterial stuff was beside his bed and he didn’t want to have to get up to retrieve it.

“Mike,” Calum said and the older boy dropped his gaze, frowning down at his desk. His bedroom was purposefully messy – mainly to piss his mother off – but it wasn’t _dirty_. Michael had cleaned his room within an inch of its life honestly. There was no grime or stickiness as his mother seemed to presume on the rare occasions when she actually risked coming in, and it was the only way Michael could feel comfortable enough to relax. Otherwise he just sat there on edge and fought not to show just how much his skin was crawling at the _germs_ , just like he did every day at school.

“Mike, I –” The signal was bad today, maybe because of the weather although Michael wasn’t sure how that actually worked. Calum’s face was pixelated onscreen, barely discernible which made talking to him easier, and it kind of _hurt_ that they’d come to this.

When Michael looked up unwillingly at the screen, he could see the bruise staining his cheekbone and his split lip in the pixelated image of himself at the foot of the screen and it made him uncomfortable. ‘ _My mum did that to me_ ,’ he thought numbly and his emerald green eyes were burning. ‘ _My own fucking **mother**_.’

“- you listening to me, Michael?” Calum snapped but there was something defensive in his tone that kept the older boy from retorting angrily. Michael ran a hand through his red hair ruefully and the dark-eyed boy stared at him with pain clear on his face, even despite the poor quality of their connection (and the irony of this potential metaphor was not missed on Michael).

“I know I’ve been in a weird mood lately.” Calum’s words were a little distorted but Michael could at least see him properly now. Calum’s mouth was moving onscreen but the words weren’t audible until a few seconds afterwards. It was disconcerting. “It’s because of that… that _thing_ … at the party…”

Calum looked so, _so_ uncomfortable and Michael was ashamed that he’d put his best friend through this.

“I’m sorry,” the red-haired boy breathed but he didn’t think Calum could hear him over the slight crackle of static. Michael dropped the tortilla chip back into the bag, having lost his appetite.

“I think we should go get a coffee this evening… talk some stuff through…” Calum looked like he felt faintly _sick_ as those words left him and Michael couldn’t say he blamed him because the request had set _dread_ unfurling icily in his stomach. “Because… things can’t go on like this, Mikey. They just _can’t_.”

“I know,” Michael whispered and Calum nodded stiffly, like he’d seen Michael’s lips forming the words onscreen.

“Ashton needs us,” Calum said softly. “And we can’t be there for him if we’re not even there for each other.”

Michael felt something sinking in his chest.

Calum didn’t want to talk for them. Of _course_ he didn’t.

Michael really _had_ fucked everything up.

“You’re right.” Michael’s voice sounded hollow to his own ears but he figured that was better than letting the pain he could feel festering inside him show in his voice. “Just let me know where you want to meet and … yeah …” Michael finished lamely, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m there.”

Calum ended the call quickly after they agreed to meet in town in an hour’s time and Michael’s stomach began to twist itself into knots. His hands felt itchy now – filthy and uncomfortable – and the anxiety burning in his veins kind of made him want to punch the wall.

Michael got ready as quickly as he could - pausing only to talk to Ashton briefly on the phone and to wash his hands just four times before he left which he counted as a win - and then he was outside, striding along beneath the darkening sky towards the café he’d visited with Ashton recently when he’d – _fuck_ – confessed his feelings about Calum.

The skies were streaked with dark greys and navy blues but rays of evening sunshine were smeared across the bruise-coloured mess, like a water colour palette.

Michael was nervous and fidgety as he waited outside the café for Calum but Michael wished they’d chosen somewhere else because now all he could think of was the _last_ time he’d been in there, when he’d spilled his feelings and torn a croissant to pieces and snapped at poor Ashton who he was so damn _worried_ about now and –

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Michael felt _horrible_ now. He’d cut his nails very, _very_ short before he’d left so they were kind of stinging now and his back was sore from where he’d clawed at it a bit in the shower, just because. Michael’s skin was crawling everywhere his clothes were touching, and even around his _mouth_ felt dry and unclean now, like even the _air_ was dirty –

And, really, having OCD sucked but fighting to hide it from your best friends was even harder.

Calum looked small and scared when he showed up, dressed in an oversized black jumper and torn jeans. His hair was curly – presumably because he’d showered too – and it was fluffy around his ears, soft-looking, like it had been back when they were younger.

“Mike,” Calum said when he saw him and he sounded less confident when there wasn’t a laptop between them. “You… you okay? You look a bit…”

Michael thought _frazzled_ might be a good word to use to describe him.

“I’m fine,” he said shortly, not wanting to get into another argument. “You coming inside? It’s cold.”

“Okay,” Calum mumbled, frowning slightly when Michael hesitated before letting his hand drop to his side, unwilling to open the door. “You want a coffee, Mike?”

“Tea actually,” Michael said and Calum nodded in agreement but the red-haired boy was biting his bottom lip. “You sit down, Cal. I’ll get them.”

The dark-haired boy looked sad as he slumped down into a seat in the corner, tangling his fingers together in his lap as he pressed his lips together worriedly. Michael’s heart sank but he shook himself out of it when he reached the till worker, ordering two teas and a cookie each on a spur of the moment decision.

Calum’s face fell when Michael walked over with the tray and the red-haired boy was trying _really_ hard not to be offended now but it was fucking _hard_ when Calum was watching him like he’d just threatened to push him over or something.

“Got you a cookie,” Michael mumbled and Calum thanked him in a whisper, not even looking at it.

“We’re meant to be talking,” the younger boy said but his voice was low and shaky. He looked alarmed, like he hadn’t been expecting Michael to accept at all and was regretting the decision now.

“Yeah, I…” Michael dropped his head into his hands for a moment, only to regret it instantly. His hands fell into his lap and he scratched at his palm, desperate to be rid of the itchiness he could feel under his skin. It was never usually this bad but he figured maybe the anxiety and the low throbbing of the injuries on his face weren’t helping. “I think you’re right. Ash… Ash is the most important right now. He’s hurting and we have to take care of him.”

The words were true but that didn’t mean they didn’t taste sour in Michael’s mouth because… because _Calum_ was incredibly important too… and Michael just wanted them both to be safe.

“We sound like two parents getting divorced,” the younger boy joked weakly and Michael tried to laugh but it came out sounding strange and sharp, like shards of broken glass.

“Yeah… we kinda do.” Michael sighed, breaking off a little bit of his cookie and suppressing a shudder as he felt the crumbs sticking to his fingertips. Michael shoved a piece into his mouth, trying to lose himself in the sweetness of the chocolate and only _kind_ of succeeding. “These aren’t half bad,” he mumbled with his mouth full, glancing up and seeing Calum watching almost _longingly_. “Cal, you’ve not touched yours. You’re not hungry?”

Calum looked the most uncomfortable yet.

“I… maybe but…” He gave a little shrug, uneasy as he shrank back in his chair beneath Michael’s confused gaze. “But… I don’t know… I’m trying to lose a few pounds with the guys on the team. Stay in shape, y’know?”

“But you’re already in shape,” Michael said blankly.

Calum flinched like Michael had poured boiling water over him.

“There’s a long way to go before _that_ ,” the dark-haired boy disagreed but there was something vaguely haunted in his chocolate brown eyes as he crumbled the cookie between his fingers and Michael had to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“ _Cal_?” he asked softly, suddenly scared, and Calum looked defensive, prickly and _angry_ , like he couldn’t stand Michael _worrying_ about him.

“Quit it,” Calum said abruptly but there was something desperate in his voice. “Michael, _please_. We’re supposed to be talking about Ash and how –”

“Calum, you’re acting really –”

“ _Please shut up_!” Calum’s voice was several octaves too high with anxiety and his hands were shaking as he gripped the edge of the table too hard, his grip so tight that his knuckles went as white as bone. “I have to go.”

“But you’ve only just got here –”

“I’m going home!” Calum’s eyes were too bright and he looked like he was fighting not to cry. “I should be home anyway! I mean – Mali is… I… I should be with her…”

“Calum?” Michael breathed. He didn’t like seeing the pain brimming in his best friend’s dark eyes and – wait…. _were_ they even best friends anymore?

God, Michael had made such a fucking _mess_!

“Cal, just calm –”

“I can’t, Michael!” Calum cried, slamming his palms down on the table top before his bottom lip wobbled again. The tears were pooling in the younger boy’s eyes and Michael reached towards him without thinking and –

Calum was gone, torn away and half- _running_ out of the café as the tears in his eyes spilt over.

He hesitated in the doorway, like he was praying that maybe Michael would call him back but… the red-haired boy wasn’t thinking straight, in too much shock over… over whatever the _hell_ had just happened.

Michael felt old as he rose slowly, curling his trembling hands into fists so that his nails bit into his palms, leaving crimson crescent moons behind.

When he stumbled outside beneath the blood-red sky as the sun sank behind the horizon, Michael tried to work out where it had all gone wrong.

His face throbbed painfully and his heart pounded too-hard in his chest.

Michael walked home slowly that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who is still reading this fic, I honestly can't thank you enough.  
> You're all absolute angels I swear. Thank you -  
> And if anyone is feeling extra kind, please let me know what you thought as it means the world <3


	23. Tangible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _It made him feel raw looking down at their innocent faces now, remembering those long summer months when the three of them had first met, back when Michael had coaxed the pair of them out of their shells and shown them how great it felt to have_ fun _._  
>  _Calum missed that time so, so much._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame my friend for making this update much angstier than it should have been. He showed me the Slipknot song.  
> Sorry guys...

**_I’ve been sitting here for ages,_ **

**_Ripping out the pages._ **

**_How’d I get so faded?_ **

_\- Bloodstream, Ed Sheeran_

 

Calum’s head was a mess.

His recollection of the evening was a complete blur of the café and Michael’s emerald green eyes swimming with tears and the cookie lying untouched on the plate in front of him before Calum was gone, torn away in a whirl of colours and fucking _pain_.

All he knew was that suggesting they meet up was a bad idea. Calum kept trying to act like everything was okay when it so clearly wasn’t because he could see the regret and the pain on Michael’s face too; could almost see that he was regretting drunkenly kissing Calum that night. Calum wondered if maybe Michael wished he hadn’t even told the younger boy that he _loved_ him because – _god_ – maybe it wasn’t even _true_ anymore.

Calum dropped his head into his hands, biting back a sob as he knotted his fingers into his hair. He could hear the television on downstairs as his parents sat together, the loud music thumping through the wall which was Mali’s polite way of saying ‘No one is fucking welcome’ and… and damnit… Calum had well and truly fucked this up.

He sat on his bed for a long time, crumpling the duvet in his fist as he shuddered at the awful energy crackling inside of him like lightning. He didn’t know how to release it.

‘ _A distraction_ ,’ Calum thought desperately, scrambling up and dropping down onto his knees so he could rummage beneath his bed. ‘ _I need a distraction_.’

The cardboard box Calum was searching for had been shoved right to the back, far enough away that his mother wouldn’t find it when she was cleaning. It was full of old photographs and little objects that reminded Calum of things that made him happy. Joy would have wanted them thrown out if she’d found them probably, hated clutter and things that didn’t make her spotless house look _perfect_. She didn’t like photos of Calum and Mali looking anything less than flawless; hated pictures of Calum with Michael and Ashton because she didn’t like them being friends.

It was fucking _shit_ and Calum was glad that he had these hidden memories.

They were something Joy and David couldn’t take away from him.

It was useful to have the pictures stored safely too because Calum had always been sentimental. He liked making gifts for his friends and Mali with the pictures, liked making something tangible from their memories that they could keep and hold onto when life got too hard…

But life _always_ felt too hard these days and Calum didn’t think all the pictures in the world could fill the hollow in his chest now.

The dark-haired boy made sure his bedroom door was shut before he dropped back down onto the bed again, settling the cardboard box beside his crossed legs as he reached for his iPod, desperate to break the silence that had settled over his room. He hit shuffle and felt his shoulders droop as a little of the tension bled away when a song began to play.

‘ _Gone – I couldn’t murder your promise. Right before my eyes, the revolutions of my psychosis kept me outta the way_.’

It was ‘Metabolic’ by Slipknot. Calum didn’t listen to this one much – just whenever it came on shuffle – and he thought maybe it was for that reason that the song hurt so much when he began to listen to the lyrics as he lifted the first picture from the box.

‘ _Once - inside - all I hold is ash... Fail - suppressing every feeling._ ’

The photograph had been taken when Calum was maybe five or six. He was sitting at the kitchen table with a birthday cake in front of him and icing smeared across one chubby cheek. Michael was sitting beside him – all golden hair and mischievous green eyes - and Ashton was clinging to the back of Calum’s chair with his arms wrapped around the dark-haired boy’s shoulders. Ashton had huge dimples in his cheeks and his curls were wild but he looked happier and more _alive_ than Calum had seen him for a long time.

They all did.

It made him feel raw looking down at their innocent faces now, remembering those long summer months when the three of them had first met, back when Michael had coaxed the pair of them out of their shells and shown them how great it felt to have _fun_.

Calum missed that time so, so much.

He wanted it back.

‘ _I'm in so much pain. I have every fucking right to hate you. I can't take it!_ ’

Calum couldn’t stand this. He’d thought this might be a good idea but it definitely wasn’t. It was just making him hurt _worse_ – salt in the wound almost – and he could hear his parents’ voices downstairs now, slightly raised like they got sometimes when they were trying to argue quietly enough that the neighbours wouldn’t hear.

Calum let the photo flutter down onto the bed, saw a more recent one of him and Michael, sitting together on the school field with their arms wrapped around each other, clearly laughing very hard at whatever Ashton had said as he took the picture. They were maybe thirteen then.

Calum’s heart ached worse than ever.

‘ _The hardest part was knowing that I could never be you. Now all I do is sit around and wish I could forget you_.’

Calum’s dark, tired eyes burnt with bitter tears because this song was absolutely _not_ okay and he needed to stop making everything about Michael because that wasn’t going to help _anyone_.

Calum found a concert ticket next, for the Good Charlotte gig he’d gone to last year with Michael. Ashton had stayed home that night, babysitting his little brother and sister apparently although a part of Calum was pretty sure Ashton just hadn’t had the money to pay for it.

That had been a fun night. Calum and Michael had sung themselves hoarse, and they’d held hands on the way home to keep the darkness at bay.

‘ _My demise - I took a life worth living and made it worth a mockery. I deny - I fold, but they keep on coming – stop_.’

Somehow a copy of one of the photographs Joy had framed downstairs had found its way into the box and a bitterness bordering on revulsion coloured Calum’s gaunt face.

No one in the picture looked remotely comfortable. It was one of those awkward ones taken in a studio with four bright smiles that went no way at all to masking the darkness in their eyes.

Calum wanted to tear it up but he fought not to, glaring down at it as a younger Calum stared helplessly back, trapped in the picture with David’s hand tight on his shoulder and his mother’s forced smile copied onto his own face.

The next line of the song felt like a punch in the chest. It knocked the breath out of Calum, made him gasp out a sob as everything he’d been trying so hard to distract himself from came rushing back.

‘ _I’m always ready to die but you’re killing me_.’

Those lyrics especially hit home and, for the first time in months, Calum identified that little dark pit inside his chest that ached desperately all the time, and that knowledge scared him more than he could put into words.

The family picture in his hand crumpled and Calum’s heart gave a little pang as he creased the glossy material in his fist. That was kind of how life felt living with them all now, screwed up and crumbling because it was fucking _wrong_ to feel the way he did, to live the way they had been for so long now that Calum could barely even remember how it had _felt_ before.

‘ _Who are you to me? Who am I to you? Is this a lesson in nepotistic negligence?_ ’

Calum’s tear-wet eyes settled on one of the oldest pictures yet. He couldn’t have been more than two years old, sitting on a very young Mali’s lap with a fistful of her long dark hair and a huge smile on his little face.

Almost like she could tell he was thinking about her, his older sister appeared in the doorway without knocking, her dark eyes tired and red from crying, her hair a mess like she'd been running her fingers through it.

She shut the door without speaking, sitting down wordlessly on Calum’s bed and settling her cool hand comfortingly on his ankle as she lifted another photo from the box. It was of the pair of them again back when Calum had first started school, his hair too neat and his tie too tight so that he looked smart… back when their smiles had still been real.

Calum felt tears rising behind his eyes because they weren’t like that anymore and absolutely _nothing_ was as easy now as it had been back then.

‘ _By default, you are my only link to the outside. Psychosomatic suicide. Where were you when I was down? Can you show me a way... to face every day with this face? Goodbye_.’

Mali’s face was pale and Calum swallowed past the lump in his throat as he looked over at her warily.

“What’s wrong?” he breathed, barely audible over the music, but by the sinking feeling in his chest, Calum thought maybe he already knew.

Mali inhaled deeply, like her next words would be hard to say.

“Squirt, I…” She swallowed, shook her head slowly as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m leaving tonight, Cal,” she whispered and her voice was thick with pained regret. “I’m _so_ fucking sorry.”

‘ _My demise - I took a life worth living and made it worth a mockery. I deny - I fold, but they keep on coming – stop._ ’

Calum stared at his older sister in shock as the last bit of hope he was clinging to inside slid out of his grip because… because this was it… and Mali wasn’t coming back.

‘ ** _I'm always ready to die but you're killing me_.** ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed this wasn't too bad! Please let me know what you thought <3  
> Things are starting to happen!!


	24. Natural Progression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum wanted to pour his down the sink but his mum had just made it for him and he couldn’t bring himself to behave that ungratefully because Calum might hate himself but he hated letting Joy down more._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hurt. Sorry guys.

**_I'm sad to the core, core, core._ **

**_Every day is a chore, chore, chore._ **

_\- Primadonna, Marina & The Diamonds_

 

During the next few weeks, Calum’s eating began to spiral out of control. Basically, he just _didn’t_ anymore, and the hollow clawing sensation in his churning stomach made him feel light-headed and ill.

It was strange at home without Mali there, empty and quiet and, although logically Calum knew that her absence was no different than any of the times before, it still felt worse this time… emptier almost… because she wasn’t coming back.

Calum tried to distract himself with homework but it was hard because the house was so _silent_ now and Calum found himself getting distracted, kept thinking about stupid things like the argument Ashton had had with his mum, how Calum’s bass guitar was collecting dust because he hadn’t been playing it… the precise emerald green of Michael’s eyes…

Joy was trying hard to carry on as normal but Calum could see in her face that she felt as lost as he did and, really, the dark-haired boy couldn’t blame her. Mali had always shone the brightest of them both and it only made sense that her absence would leave a gaping hole behind now.

Calum didn’t go upstairs as much anymore although it was kind of draining him, stuck there on the sofa with his parents downstairs as he tried to pretend he was a good son.

David was out of the house for the day though, meeting up with an old colleague to play golf, and a little of the tension had dissipated out through the open door after him.

“Mum?” Calum’s voice was hesitant as he appeared in the kitchen doorway, frowning faintly when he saw her kneeling on the immaculate tiled floor as she scrubbed them clean needlessly. “I… I was thinking about… maybe going on a diet too…”

It wasn’t exactly true but Calum figured it was easier to lie about this because it would probably make her less likely to ask him why he wasn’t eating so much anymore.

Joy’s face lit up at the words and she rewarded her son with a rare smile.

“We can go shopping for healthy things later!” she said as she continued cleaning. She looked a little happier though, like Calum had just offered her a distraction from how she’d pretty much failed Mali as a parent.

Calum smiled weakly, disappearing back into his room upstairs. At least she’d believed him.

They went to the supermarket that afternoon, searching for fruits and vegetables they could put into the smoothies that Calum was already sure he wasn’t going to drink.

It was brightly lit in there, loud and busy because it was a Saturday, and Calum’s heart was thumping too hard with _something_ that was making his palms prickle with sweat.

‘ _It’ll be okay_ ,’ Calum thought as he hovered behind Joy at the tills, waiting for her to pay. ‘ _It’ll all be fine_.’

It wasn’t though.

When they got home, David was back in his usual armchair, sitting in a freshly ironed polo shirt and reading the newspaper with hard steel-grey eyes as he scanned the text. It quickly became apparent that he was in a foul mood – privately, Calum thought this was probably because he’d lost at golf – but David was snapping at the slightest provocation and Joy was flinching like a frightened rabbit and, abruptly, Calum was fighting back tears.

“Your smoothie’s done,” Joy called softly from the kitchen and Calum’s empty stomach tied itself into knots. Suddenly, all Calum could think of were the pictures he’d been looking at a few weeks previously, couldn’t help remembering how chubby he’d been, with dimpled knees and a soft tummy, and the only difference was that he looked _worse_ now probably. Imperfect.

No wonder his parents didn’t love him enough. No wonder Mali hadn’t stayed.

Calum knew his parents weren’t exactly happy together but David had always stayed with Joy and… and maybe that was because she was better than Calum would _ever_ be. She smiled a lot and she dieted even more and… and Calum supposed that idea had kind of always been ingrained in his head from a very young age, that losing weight was something he should do if he wasn’t happy with the way he was, like his mother very clearly wasn't.

That thought upset Calum, made a lump rise in his throat when he carried his horrible smoothie over to the breakfast bar and slumped down onto the seat, dizzy and sick as he propped his chin up with his elbow resting on the countertop.

“Sit up straight,” Joy snapped, just like always. Calum’s sigh was almost silent but she still shot him a glare, like she could tell he was being disobedient.

“Drink up,” she said as she carried her own over, wrinkling her nose as she sat down lightly on the seat across from him.

Calum wanted to pour his down the sink but his mum had just made it for him and he couldn’t bring himself to behave that ungratefully because Calum might hate himself but he hated letting Joy down more.

Calum hesitated, felt his skin crawl as the thick green liquid sloshed unappetisingly in the glass and… and Calum just did it, just closed his eyes and swallowed it all down past the knot of tears that was trying its best to choke him.

Calum hid his grimace much more successfully than Joy did but it was clear that they both hated it. Calum forced a weak smile, trying to ignore the absolute revulsion he could feel unfurling inside him as he set the glass down on the counter weakly with shaky hands.

“Thank you,” Calum said through gritted teeth, hiding his nervously-twisting hands in his lap as his heart raced with anxiety. “I’m sure this diet will work.” His voice only wobbled a little bit at the end of the sentence, subtly enough that his mother didn’t notice. Joy’s dark eyes were still flickering anxiously towards the living room where her husband sat though and she didn’t seem to hear him.

Calum swallowed audibly at the nausea he could feel pulsing through him. He often felt sick when he got nervous – exactly how he felt now to be honest – and occasionally he felt better after he’d been sick.

It was kind of like this horrible natural progression almost and Calum was barely even _surprised_ when he ended up kneeling over the toilet later that afternoon when his parents went out.

Calum was too scared to make himself sick but he was _wishing_ for it because he could feel the smoothie sloshing in his stomach, weighing him down and crushing the air out of his lungs, and Calum had never felt this ill before and he _knew_ that if he could just pluck up the courage then – then –

Calum exhaled shakily, letting his forehead fall to rest against the cold porcelain as his pulse thundered in his veins and his stomach knotted unpleasantly.

Calum wished he was brave enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought <3


	25. Out Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“I’m so screwed up!” The words escaped Michael in a sob and Graham opened his arms hesitantly, letting out a little huff when Michael flung himself at him. He kept his hands curled into fists though, not touching. Graham rubbed Michael’s back comfortingly, like he’d had to do sometimes when he was babysitting his nephew when he was little._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't stop writing Tempest.  
> What the hell is happening.
> 
> Also this turned out way, way angstier than I planned because a really sad documentary was on the TV while I was writing this.  
> But yeah... hope you enjoy!

_**You've felt this way for far too long,** _

_**Waiting for a change to come.** _

_**You know you're not the only one.** _

_\- One Day, Kodaline_

 

Michael had always loved his uncle Graham.

The man was a nurse at the local hospital, in his early thirties with Michael’s emerald green eyes and messy hair. He worked weird hours but Michael had never had a very healthy sleeping pattern so he still saw his uncle a lot which was good. Sometimes Graham felt like the only person Michael had that kept him sane.

Graham Clifford was absolutely _nothing_ like his brother or even Michael’s parents in general really. Graham never pried and he was always kind, and he absolutely _never_ hurt Michael. He was perceptive and smart, and probably one of the nicest people the red-haired boy had ever met.

Michael loved Graham _so_ much and, fortunately, Graham loved his nephew too.

“Mike!” the nurse said when he opened the front door after dinner that night and found his nephew standing on the doorstep. He pulled Michael into a hug and the sixteen year old kind of melted into it, letting out a little sigh as he knotted his fingers into the back of Graham’s navy blue jumper. “How’ve you been, mate?”

Graham led Michael in and shut the door carefully behind him, watching as Michael removed his scuffed combat boots and left them lined up neatly beside the doormat, just like always.

“I’m okay, Gray,” Michael said, padding into the living room in his socks as Graham followed him. “How’re you?”

“I’m fine,” Graham said dismissively. His dinner plate was still lying on the dining table where he had abandoned it in favour of answering the door and Michael’s hands itched to tidy it away. “How’s your face now, mate?”

Michael sighed quietly, settling down on the sofa and tilting his face towards his uncle so that Graham could check him over. Somehow Michael managed to make even that simple action look sarcastic, and the older man was almost _impressed_ as he tilted his nephew’s face gently back and forth, making sure his lip was healing and that the bruise had receded.

“Remind me how you did this again?” Graham asked softly as he let his hands fell to settle in his lap. The television was on quietly, showing a grim-faced news reporter whose words were too soft for Michael to hear.

“Oh, I…" The red-haired boy swallowed his pride and felt faintly sick with it. “I got drunk. Must’ve fallen. I don’t know.”

Graham didn’t look convinced but he nodded grudgingly, folding his arms over his chest as he settled back on the sofa cushions. By contrast, Michael looked unusually uncomfortable in his uncle’s house, sitting with his back ramrod straight on the sofa.

“You want a drink, Mike?” Graham asked carefully, clearly sensing the tension that was rolling off of Michael in waves by now. “Or –”

“I need to talk to you,” the red-haired boy confessed and his voice was thick with something that he was trying hard to pretend wasn’t tears. “Properly.”

“Well, I’m always here for you, Mike. Like an Agony Aunt.”

“I know you are,” Michael mumbled, his lips twitching faintly at his uncle’s slightly terrible joke. He appreciated it a lot though. Graham always knew when he could get away with trying to lighten the mood. “It’s… This is so stupid. I don’t even know why I’m –”

“ _Mike_!” Graham interrupted him but his voice was soft and the kindness on his face made Michael’s shoulders slump slightly with relief. “I’m not judging you. Not ever. Just… talk, mate. Okay? It might help.”

Michael inhaled shakily. The familiarity of his surroundings helped though because Michael was comfortable in Graham’s living room. He liked the cosiness of it and how the lighting there was soft because Graham tended to light the place with lamps. There was a bookshelf pressed up against the far wall and a number of succulents in little pots on the windowsill. A thick-knitted blanket stretched across the sofa and Michael rubbed it with his thumb as he sat there with his legs crossed beneath him, losing himself in the softness of the fabric like he had done back when he was little and afraid of falling asleep at night.

“What do you know about OCD, Gray?”

The words were very hard to say. They caught in Michael’s throat, sticking almost, choking him, and the alarm in Michael’s eyes at having finally said them out loud only faded when Graham didn’t look surprised.

"Well, it's a mental health condition, Mike,” his uncle said slowly, frowning down at his hands. “A… a person has obsessive thoughts, compulsive activity... Hence the name, y’know?"

Michael smiled weakly but his eyes were empty. Graham's voice became strained.

"A person can get... urges. It can make them feel anxious, disgusted... scared. The compulsions can make a person feel better for a short period of time…”

Michael felt small and pathetic sitting curled up there on his uncle’s sofa, fighting not to cry.

"What happens when it stops helping?" Michael whispered, eyes damp, and that must have confirmed it for Graham because he paled visibly.

“Mike, you don’t have to be scared,” the nurse said softly, reaching towards his nephew hesitantly before he faltered, like he wasn’t sure if Michael wanted him to anymore. The tears in the red-haired boy’s eyes boiled over. “How long has this been going on for, mate?”

It was dark outside now and Michael’s stomach was rumbling but he was too exhausted to search for some food that wouldn’t make him feel even worse. He’d left school in a hurry, walking with Ashton and Calum as far as the park before he made his excuses and left, simply wandering the streets in an effort to fight the itch he could feel burning beneath his skin that drowned out the ache Calum had left in his chest.

“Ages,” Michael answered after a moment. “But… but lately it’s been getting worse. Before I just didn’t always like _touching_ things sometimes or… or my hands itched but… but now I’m checking things more too or… or tidying… except that makes my hands feel even _dirtier_ so… so then I have to wash them again… and again and… and it _hurts_.”

Graham’s face crumpled at the shame he could see burning on Michael’s flushed face.

“Can I please see your hands, Mike?” he asked softly and the pain in Graham’s eyes only worsened when Michael showed him hesitantly, rolling his sleeves back. They were cracked and sore, almost bleeding in some places, rubbed raw where Michael had scrubbed at them.

“God, Mike,” Graham breathed but his voice was thick with tears. “You… you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or… or ashamed…” Michael’s eyes were anguished but they were also fixed on Graham’s face like he was drinking the words in, desperate for them. “Mate, it… it’s a _health_ condition, y’know? Like… like diabetes or… or asthma or something… and some people have it – like you do, Mike – and… and it’s not your fault.”

“I’m so screwed up!” The words escaped Michael in a sob and Graham opened his arms hesitantly, letting out a little huff when Michael flung himself at him. He kept his hands curled into fists though, not touching. Graham rubbed Michael’s back comfortingly, like he’d had to do sometimes when he was babysitting his nephew when he was little.

“Everyone’s a _bit_ messed up, mate.” Graham gave a half-hearted shrug. “Makes life more interesting, right? But please don’t worry, Mike. I know now and I’m so proud of you for telling me. I’ll find a way to help, okay? And _until_ then…”

Graham kept one arm wrapped around Michael but he reached towards the side table with his free hand, rifling through the drawers he could reach before he returned triumphantly with a handful of elastic bands.

“What’re those for?” Michael mumbled, letting his flushed cheek rest hesitantly against the plaid material of Graham’s shirt as he looked at what his uncle was holding.

“You said your compulsions weren’t helping much anymore so I figured you could try something new. Just… snap the bands, yeah? You might not like touching them much. I mean… I don’t know how this affects you but… It’s a distraction… and it might help.”

Michael’s trembling hand closed around them hesitantly and he managed not to shudder, even as his skin prickled at the feeling.

“Thank you,” he whispered, unusually tearful now but slightly more awake. He was still hungry too and Graham seemed to realise this because he nudged the red-haired boy gently into a sitting position before gesturing towards the kitchen.

“Do you want to make yourself some soup?” Graham suggested carefully and it was almost like he _knew_ that anything else would have bothered his nephew, and Michael was reminded again of just how much he loved his uncle.

“Yes please,” Michael said softly and he felt _young_ as he followed Graham out into the brightly-lit kitchen.

“What kind do you want? I’ve got like… tomato or… Oh. Tomato. I… I hope you like tomato.”

Michael gave a weak snort of laughter but he accepted the can from his uncle all the same, swallowing against the revulsion because focusing on it would only make him feel _worse_ probably and… and if he just tried to ignore it then maybe it would go away.

“Tomato’s fine,” he said quietly, stooping to get a bowl from the usual cupboard before he opened the can using the ring pull. “Thank you.”

It was quiet now although the gentle hum of the television in the other room soothed Michael’s frayed nerves. Graham leant against the counter behind him, crossing his legs at the ankle as he watched Michael attempt not to slop soup everywhere.

“Microwave it,” Graham said firmly and Michael gave him a weak pout.

“But that takes _ages_ , Gray,” he whined, only forcing it a little bit, and Graham relaxed visibly as things slowly returned to normal.

“You can’t eat cold soup, mate,” Graham pointed out with a wrinkled nose. “That’s disgusting… like those horrible smoothie things people are drinking nowadays.”

“Gross,” Michael agreed with a faint grin but his face fell when he saw his uncle watching him with poorly-disguised concern. “ _What_?” the red-haired boy asked in a small voice.

Graham hesitated for a moment before he reached out slowly, swallowing past the lump in his throat when Michael fought not to flinch.

“You can still see the bruise in this light,” the nurse said softly, letting his fingertip brush the pale skin next to the faint bruise that was still staining Michael’s cheekbone even now. He’d hit his face so, _so_ hard.

“I lied to you,” Michael said, his voice even smaller now, almost lost beneath the whir of the microwave. Graham’s hand fell to settle gently on his nephew’s shoulder.

“You didn’t mean to, mate. You were just scared.”

Michael turned to look at him, his green eyes pained again because… because even after everything Michael had put him through, Graham still _cared_. He didn’t judge Michael and he never made him talk about anything he didn’t want to. He always smelt clean and he never asked too many questions, and he let Michael make himself soup when he was sad and hurting and… and Michael never, ever wanted to go _home_ , back to the shadows and his parents and painful thoughts of _Calum_.

He just wanted to stay here instead, where he was _safe_.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” Michael said softly and Graham gave a little shrug, sitting on the counter with an easy sort of grace that he had never really grown out of. Graham hesitated and Michael thought he knew what was coming.

“How about you just talk and… and I’ll just listen, okay? I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t mind,” Michael whispered but the assurance calmed something inside him all the same. The microwave gave a little ding and Michael busied himself with removing his soup as his shoulders tightened a little with stress.

“I didn’t hurt my face because I fell.” His words were slow and careful, measured almost, like he was judging Graham’s reaction. “It… it was mum.”

Michael silently carried the soup to the dining table where it stood near the bookshelf in Graham’s living room. The curtains had been pulled shut over the glass doors that led out onto the patio to keep the night at bay but it was still cooler over there and Michael shivered a little, sinking down into one of the cushioned seats and stirring his tomato soup idly with a spoon.

Behind him, Graham stood frozen and the tension between them stretched as Michael’s uncle processed the red-haired boy’s words.

Finally, after what felt like an age, Graham broke the silence.

“What… what do you mean?” he asked weakly and Michael kept his emerald eyes fixed downwards as he drank a spoonful of soup. His stomach was twisting with nervous butterflies but Michael was still starving and he ate quickly.

“She… she thought I was drunk. Found out I'd been out with some guys I know through gaming…” Michael paused as his lip curled. “Out with _boys_ , Gray, god forbid.” Michael shook his head disgustedly, glaring down at his soup with undisguised venom. “She… she just... she just kind of lost it. ' _Knocked some sense into me_ '. I think that's what she said.”

Graham looked faintly sick as he sat down slowly on the chair across from Michael.

“What did she do to you, Mike?” The nurse’s voice was soft and controlled, one of forced calm like he was trying not to _scare_ Michael or something.

“It… it wasn’t even that _bad_ ,” Michael tried with a touch of desperation now and the nurse’s face creased.

“ _Mike_ ,” Graham murmured and that was all it took.

“She just hit me.” Michael’s voice broke in strange places. His heart ached. “I... I don't know. I fell, caught my face on the counter... She didn’t mean to hit me that hard I don’t think and… and like I said earlier… I… I was a bit drunk anyway, kinda… That probably didn’t help.”

“ _How_ drunk?” the nurse asked quietly but there was something buried in his sad eyes that told Michael that nothing he said would make this any better.

“Two beers,” Michael whispered, letting his spoon fall back into the bowl with a dull clatter. Graham’s shoulders slumped.

“But… but Daryl helped you? My brother helped you?” the nurse asked after a moment and there was something desperate in his voice, like he was praying for an answer Michael _couldn’t_ give him.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said numbly but… he didn’t know what he was apologising for.

Michael had done nothing -

Just like Daryl.

Graham’s expression was a painful twist of contempt, anger and _pain_ but he seemed to be trying to fight it down and… and somehow that only made it hurt _worse_. The pain in his uncle’s expression made a lump rise in Michael’s throat until suddenly he couldn’t hold the tears in anymore.

They boiled over and Michael’s sobs threatened to choke him as he crumpled forwards into Graham’s arms. The older man held him tightly, carding his fingers through Michael’s messy red hair and dropping a kiss onto his forehead.

“I’ve got you, mate,” Graham murmured, rocking him slowly like he had done when Michael was just a toddler. “I’m not letting go, Mike. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought!


	26. Backwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum wanted to hold_ Michael _in his arms too, tightly enough that he could keep him together._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the wait but I hope this chapter will be okay!  
> I tried not to make it too similar to the events happening in Maelstrom because I don't want this to get too same-y!  
> Hope you'll enjoy :D

**_Speak to me, when all you got to keep is strong,_ **

**_Move along, move along like I know you do,_ **

**_And even when your hope is gone,_ **

**_Move along, move along just to make it through._ **

_\- Move Along, The All-American Rejects_

 

It was an uncomfortably hot day and the sun was burning Calum’s arms from its place in the sky. The tanned skin of his stomach was bruised from where he’d been pinching at it and Calum felt faintly sick as he kicked the ball blindly towards one of his team. He’d eaten half an orange that morning after he’d woken up weak with hunger but he was regretting that now because he could feel it sitting heavily in his stomach and it was making his forehead bead with cold sweat.

“C’mon! To me! This way, Sam! _Here_ , damnit!”

The shouts were washing over Calum but he wasn’t properly focused on the game. His thoughts were tangled with the events of the past few weeks instead and that was only adding to the nausea unfurling inside Calum because everything had become so _strained_.

He’d barely spoken to Michael although they all still hung around together – mostly for Ashton’s sake these days – and Calum was sure the oldest boy _had_ to have noticed. Ashton never commented though but, by the distressed expression on the curly-haired boy’s exhausted face, Calum figured maybe Ashton had his own problems that he wasn’t telling them.

That worried Calum more than almost anything else did because, sure, maybe Ashton _was_ older than him but he was smaller too, shy and quiet and reserved, and he felt kind of like the little brother Calum had never had. He just wanted Ashton (and Michael too, damnit) to be _safe_.

The goalkeeper looked unusually pale now despite the jumper he was wearing for some reason and Calum watched with concern as Ashton stumbled backwards a few steps, his back hitting the goalpost. His eyes looked glazed from this distance and Calum bit his bottom lip hard, flinching when the ball suddenly went hurtling towards the goal.

It slipped through Ashton’s limp fingers and Calum let out a shocked hiss because that barely _ever_ happened. Ashton was too good to miss such an easy save. Something _had_ to be wrong.

Calum raised his whistle, blowing it shrilly before he yelled: “Guys, stop! Take a five minute break!”

When Calum turned again, his heart rose into his throat because Ashton had sunk down onto his knees now and his face was _so_ pale.

“Ash?” Calum asked blankly, his dark eyes flickering towards the stands where Michael was sitting looking uncomfortable. He was snapping an elastic band on his wrist – he’d been doing that for _weeks_ now but Calum didn’t think he was allowed to ask why anymore – but luckily the red-haired boy’s eyes were fixed on Calum and he saw when the football captain pointed towards what was happening.

Ashton seemed to fall almost in slow-motion and Calum’s legs felt shaky as he ran over as fast as he could, falling down onto the scorched grass beside his best friend as Ashton’s head hit the ground hard and his eyes slid shut.

“ _Ashton_?!” Michael’s voice was several octaves too high with fear although he would presumably deny that later. Michael knelt down beside him too and Calum found himself deeply relieved that the rest of the team were busy getting water or checking their phones because the _last_ thing they needed was a crowd gawping at them now.

“Ash?” Calum whispered, his voice tight with fear. The coach hadn’t accompanied the football team out for practice today and Calum wished he was here because he didn’t know what he was supposed to _do_ when his best friend collapsed right in front of him. “Ashy, bud, can you hear us?”

Calum’s fingertips brushed Ashton’s cheek gently but it took almost thirty seconds before the smaller boy’s glassy hazel eyes fluttered open. He tensed with pain, his lips parting wordlessly as he stared up at his two best friends with fear in his eyes.

“What happened?” Ashton breathed, his voice hoarse as he lay there in the dirt. His face crumpled suddenly and he let out a soft groan. “I feel sick.”

“You hit your head,” Michael said quietly, his eyes surprisingly calculating now and –

Oh yeah, his uncle was a nurse.

“Can you sit up, Ash?" Michael asked in a soft voice as he grasped Ashton's searching hand gently in his own. "We need to get you out of the sun.”

Calum wrapped his arm around Ashton’s waist once Michael had helped the smaller boy up and together the three of them made their way across the field. It was cooler in the changing rooms but Calum’s bruised stomach was churning with anxiety now on top of everything else and the utter mortification on Ashton’s face as his cheeks _flamed_ made something bitter well up in Calum’s mouth.

The football captain helped Ashton down onto the bench and the curly-haired boy dropped his head into his hands, his eyes swimming with tears. The tension in the room was palpable as Calum finally let his gaze settle on Michael’s anxious face and the red-haired boy snapped the elastic band again, his eyes burning with nervousness at the unease saturating the air around them.

Calum’s arm settled gently around Ashton’s slumped shoulders as Michael paced back and forth in front of them, his fiery hair messy where he’d been running his fingers through it and his bottom lip bitten raw from where he’d been worrying it with his teeth.

Calum wanted to hold _Michael_ in his arms too, tightly enough that he could keep him together.

Ashton let out a quiet sigh and Calum’s arm tightened around him reflexively, holding the smaller boy closer. Ashton was too hot now, sweating because he was still wearing his winter sports jumper over his football kit but something in the way Ashton was tugging at the sleeves prevented Calum from suggesting that the goalkeeper simply remove it.

“Why do you think he fainted?” Calum asked hesitantly, catching Michael’s emerald green eyes and kind of losing himself in them as Ashton mumbled something cross-sounding under his breath beside him.

“He was probably just dehydrated or something,” Michael said after a moment, his cheeks flushing when Calum’s eyes stayed fixed on his face. “Like, your blood pressure decreases because your blood gets thicker or whatever so it makes it more likely that you’re gonna faint.”

Abruptly Calum remembered that night at Ashton’s when the older boy had had a panic attack. He remembered the empty wine bottle on the floor and the tears flooding down Ashton’s cheeks. He remembered the smaller boy eating Calum’s leftover pizza like he hadn’t had any real food in weeks.

Calum’s eyes burnt with tears.

“When did you last drink something, Ashy?” he asked softly, rubbing Ashton’s shoulder gently when the smaller boy tensed up.

“Uh… yesterday? I think it was yesterday…” Ashton whispered and… and Calum didn’t get it. Anne should have been making sure he was drinking and eating, should have made sure he was fucking looking _after_ himself!

Michael’s expression was similarly dismayed as he dropped his backpack onto one of the nearby benches and wrestled a slightly-crumpled bottle of water out of it. He pushed it into Ashton’s large, trembling hands and the older boy watched Michael with wide doe eyes.

“Drink _all_ of it, Irwin,” Michael said and Calum’s heart clenched painfully in his chest when Ashton pretty much downed the bottle in one because this was that night with the pizza all over again.

“I need to pee before I go to next lesson,” Ashton mumbled and Calum frowned, taking in the bruise-like circles under Ashton’s eyes and the perpetual shaking of his hands.

“I don’t think staying at school is such a good idea, Ashton,” Calum said and he _knew_ he wasn’t imagining the unwillingness that had bloomed in the smaller boy’s hazel eyes at the prospect of going back home.

Calum was just opening his mouth to ask _why_ exactly when Michael interrupted him unknowingly, once again proving that he was a lot smarter than anyone gave him credit for.

“It’s feasible that he could feel okay now, you know, Cal. Like, sometimes people will feel better a couple of minutes after fainting. Ash is probably okay.”

Ashton relaxed against Calum’s side and, without thinking, Calum let his lips brush Ashton’s forehead in a comforting kiss. Michael’s eyes were lost when Calum finally looked back up at him.

“I feel a bit better now,” Ashton mumbled as he got up to go to the toilet and Calum hated that he couldn’t work out if the smaller boy was lying or not.

Almost like he could read Calum’s mind, Michael gave him a wry smile.

“Don’t worry, mate,” the red-haired boy said and that name fucking _hurt_. “I’ll go round his tonight, make sure he’s okay… and I’ll let you know, okay? Sneaky updates.”

“Like a spy,” Calum mumbled and Michael let out a small snort of surprised laughter.

“Yeah, Cal,” he grinned, rolling his eyes like he used to when they were younger and Calum confessed that he was scared of drop bears. “Like a spy.”

Ashton made a joke from the other room – teasingly asking them to whistle because the quiet was awkward – and Michael shook his head fondly, dropping down onto the bench and sliding his phone out of his pocket as he texted someone. (When Calum caught a glimpse of the screen, he thought it _might_ have been Graham.)

Calum was still worried about Ashton though, felt the fear for his best friend consuming him because how had Ashton not eaten or drank anything since the day before? And why did he look so tired and pale all the time? Why was he always _trembling_?

Calum hated that Ashton wasn’t being looked after the way he took care of his own little brother and sister... the way he _deserved_.

Calum just wanted him to be safe.

He wanted that for all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! :)  
> Please let me know what you thought! <3


	27. You're All I Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum’s dark eyes were shining with tears as he lay there in the gloom and they boiled over, coursing down his cheeks silently as he pressed his eyes shut hard and fought to forget._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to update and I'm really sorry that it's not longer but my head is a mess at the moment and everything is kind of _really_ hard so I'm not getting a chance to write so much but I absolutely promise that I'm not leaving this fic.  
>  I know how it ends and I'm not stopping until we get there.

**_I paced around for hours on empty._ **

**_I jumped at the slightest of sounds,_ **

**_And I couldn't stand the person inside me._ **

**_I turned all the mirrors around._ **

_\- Control, Halsey_

 

Michael did end up going round to Ashton’s house in the end and Calum tried not to feel bitter about it as he watched the pair walking off to collect Ashton’s siblings from school.

The sun was burning high in the sky and it was making Calum’s eyes hurt because he had a pounding headache. His stomach was aching too, twisting itself into knots because he hadn’t eaten anything in hours and hours, and Calum _really_ fucking hated himself.

The sky darkened quickly that evening, storm clouds rolling in as lightning slashed the sky apart after the humidity of the day.

The driveway was empty of his parents’ cars and Mali’s room was empty beside his, and Calum was so lost up in his head as his dark, spiralling thoughts threatened to suffocate him that he didn’t even process that he could hear sirens as an ambulance raced past outside, speeding off in the general direction of Ashton’s house.

Calum wondered what Michael and Ashton were doing. He wondered when his parents would get home from work. He wondered where Mali was.

His heart ached.

So did his stomach. Calum pinched the fat he could feel there tightly as he lay stretched out on his bed because even in _that_ position he could see it, rolls and rolls that might not even _be_ there if he’d made himself sick that day a few weeks ago.

Calum had the Black Swan soundtrack playing softly in the background. The familiar opening notes of _Stumbled Beginnings_ began to play and Calum let his eyes slide shut as his fingertips pressed harder into the bruised skin of his stomach.

He hated everything about this. He loathed feeling embarrassed to be in his own skin. He fucking _detested_ getting changed in front of the team and feeling their eyes on him because when they looked at him Calum couldn’t even _pretend_ that he didn’t exist and that was _agony_ when he just wanted to disappear because… because _damnit_ , Calum couldn’t handle being him anymore.

He just couldn’t.

Calum squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the pace of the music picked up and his dizzy head swam.

He remembered the party suddenly, remembered Michael’s hand cupping Calum’s cheek and the stars glittering in his emerald eyes and his lips gently brushing Calum’s before his tongue slipped into the younger boy’s mouth and their hips pressed together and –

“ _You’re all I need._ "

Calum’s dark eyes were shining with tears as he lay there in the gloom and they boiled over, coursing down his cheeks silently as he pressed his eyes shut hard and fought to forget.

Calum tried to distract himself, thought about the photos of him when he was little again, hidden beneath his mattress where they were out of sight but _definitely_ not out of mind.

It made Calum kind of sad because he’d read once that if you felt like doing something destructive then you should picture yourself as a little kid because then you wouldn’t want to hurt them but… but maybe Calum’s brain didn’t work right… maybe he was _broken_ because… because he didn’t care.

It was still _him_ and he was still fat and he still deserved this, whether he was sixteen or six.

Calum would _always_ deserve this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please let me know what you think and, once again, I'm really sorry for the delay!  
> Thank you <3


	28. Half To Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“_ Michael _,” Calum cried and Michael’s whole fucking_ heart _hurt now, picturing Calum crying in his bedroom through the wall, just a couple of houses over._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave myself feels writing this really badly wow.  
> Anyway, I didn't want to rewrite the scene from Maelstrom (starting at chapter 23 in that fic in case you wanted reminding) so I thought this was a better way to do it.  
> Hope this is okay!

**_You just have to say the word and I'm there._ **

**_I'm there._ **

_\- I’m There, Hey Violet_

 

Michael’s hands were shaking so violently that it took him four tries to dial Calum’s number in his phone. The clock on his bedside table told him that it was just after one in the morning. The illuminated green numbers blurred with the tears in Michael’s eyes. His heart was breaking in his chest.

“ _Mike_?” Calum asked hesitantly after several rings, his voice thick with sleep. “It’s one in the morning. What –”

“ _Cal_ ,” Michael sobbed out, curling his free hand into a fist and digging his knuckles into his thigh as he tried to keep calm. Calum fell silent at once, his sharp intake of breath audible over the phone. “Cal, _god_ , it’s… it’s Ashton.”

“What’s wrong?” Calum asked, his voice alarmed and so alert now that it was impossible to tell that he’d been sleeping only moments before. Michael’s breath rasped in his throat and he brought his legs up to his chest, burying his head in his knees so that his voice came out muffled.

“You… you know I went back with… with Ash after school?” Michael asked after a moment and his voice wasn’t shaking now but his chest was tight and he felt too hot in his tiny, spotless room. The sheets crumpled as he shifted back against the wall and Michael’s green eyes prickled with tears.

“What happened, Mikey?” Calum repeated and his voice calmed Michael’s frayed nerves, made him sit up straighter as the sob that had lodged itself in his throat dissipated in silent tears.

Michael took a few deep breaths, fighting for a composure he didn’t feel.

“We… we picked Lauren and Harry up once you’d gone,” the older boy said quietly, biting his full bottom lip in the darkness of his room as the watery moonlight filtered in through his thin curtains. “And… and Ash was being weird the whole way home, all quiet and sad and stuff.”

“Like always,” Calum breathed, his voice soft and twisted like the words hurt him. Michael squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, fighting stubbornly against fresh tears.

“Yeah, like always,” Michael said roughly. “Except it was worse this time.” The red-haired boy felt faintly sick now and he was sure Calum felt no better. “We got home and… and his mum was passed out on the sofa. Just… gone, y’know?”

“The wine bottle,” Calum whispered and Michael’s eyes widened faintly.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” he asked but Calum didn’t answer. Michael bit his lip, worry gnawing in his stomach.

“Well… Ash… Ash managed to upset Harry – said something stupid about doing homework I think – and then I put my foot in it. I… I just wasn’t _thinking_ , Cal,” Michael whispered and the shame in his voice was humiliating. “I told him he’d fucked it up and… he just exploded.”

“What do you mean?” Calum asked, his voice so small and scared that Michael wanted to hold him.

“He told me he fucks everything up,” Michael answered after a moment and he sounded hollow even to his own ears. “He said he doesn’t earn enough money and the little ones are always hungry and that he doesn’t even get to eat half the time.”

Calum’s breath escaped him sharply, like someone had punched him in the stomach.

“He said he has panic attacks because… because he’s so… so _useless_ that he can’t breathe when things go wrong.” Michael’s voice was starting to shake and the tears prickling in his eyes boiled over.

“ _Michael_ ,” Calum cried and Michael’s whole fucking _heart_ hurt now, picturing Calum crying in his bedroom through the wall, just a couple of houses over.

“It gets worse,” Michael said softly and Calum choked on his sobs, fighting to stay quiet so that he could still hear.

“He told me… he cuts. He wishes he was _dead_ , Cal. I… I didn’t know what to –”

“Michael…” Calum was crying – Michael could hear his shaky breaths down the phone – and it was tearing the older boy up inside. “What… what happened then?”

“We went to the hospital,” Michael said quietly and Calum made a small, surprised noise, still sniffing tearfully.

“What? _Why_?”

“Ash’s mum wouldn’t wake up.” Michael felt small as he sat there, his fingertips pressing into his pale skin, his breath shuddering in his chest. “She wouldn’t wake up and the little ones were crying and Ashton was panicking, and I had to call the ambulance and then we got there and she was worse than we thought and… and Ash said he didn’t deserve looking after but I hugged him and he cried and… and they called a _social worker_ , Cal, and… and they’re not allowed back home again… because they weren’t looked after.”

“Mikey, we never _realised_ ,” Calum gasped and his voice was strained, gradually growing louder in his distress. “Mikey, we have to be there for him. No matter _what_ happens.”

 _No matter what_.

Michael’s heart was pounding too hard and his phone was slippery in his grip.

“They’re going to go and live with their grandparents, over on the expensive side of town,” Michael said after a moment, his voice weaker now. Calum let out a relieved sob and Michael’s need to hold him tripled. “And they’re staying at my uncle’s tonight. Gray will look after them.” Michael swallowed past the lump in his throat with difficulty. “Cally, they’re gonna be _safe_.”

Calum was crying down the phone properly now, loud sobs that sounded _so_ alive.

The younger boy fell silent with a ragged gasp when Michael heard Calum’s father shouting at him to shut up. He heard it through the walls too, very faintly.

Michael felt something cold unfurling in his chest and that hurt worse than the scratching under his skin. He’d never particularly liked Calum’s parents but… but he was kind of starting to _hate_ them now.

How could they shout at their son to shut up when he was so clearly upset?

That was the sort of thing Michael’s _mother_ would do and…

God, Michael hoped Calum’s parents weren’t like that.

“Cal?” he asked softly, aware of his own voice in the silent house now that all he could hear were Calum’s soft breaths catching in his throat as he tried not to cry. “Can you sneak out? Meet me on the corner in a few minutes?”

There was a long moment of silence and Michael’s aching heart began to beat half to death.

After what felt like a very long time, Calum finally broke the silence.

“I’ll be there,” he promised.

Michael ended the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed you enjoyed this <3  
> I'm looking forward to writing the next chapter! :)  
> Please let me know what you all think!


	29. Falling From The Sky In Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum wished this didn’t feel so right when everything was torn up between them, wished he didn’t_ want _this… wished it wasn’t the only point of light left anymore in a dark world where everything else was falling from the sky in pieces._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you hadn't guessed by the chapter title, I've been listening to "Explosions" by Ellie Goulding a lot and I can't get that song out of my head at the moment. It's definitely one of my favourites.  
> Anyway, I actually wrote this very quickly for me. Like, the words just kind of appeared and I don't remember writing half of them so I must have been pretty into this chapter.  
> Hopefully it reads okay! I feel like this needed to happen.

**_Now the night is coming to an end._ **

**_The sun will rise and we will try again._ **

**_Stay alive, stay alive for me._ **

**_You will die, but now your life is free._ **

_\- Truce, Twenty One Pilots_

 

The rain was a mist in the air, too fine to be seen but still absolutely _soaking_ Calum as he slipped out of the house. It was pitch black out there, the glow of the streetlights dim and hazy through the rain as he stumbled down the driveway in the darkness.

Calum was still wearing his pyjamas but he’d tugged a hoodie on over the top and his Vans were slipping on the rain-wet gravel of his driveway as his breath hung like tiny clouds in the chilly air in front of him.

Michael was exactly where he said he would be, leaning against the road sign on the corner of their street. He was wearing sweatpants and what looked like his dad’s overcoat, and Michael looked like a right state and the pain in his eyes when he spotted the younger boy didn’t fucking _mean_ anything but it still made Calum’s eyes burn with tears.

Michael was still a fair way down the road but his own face was crumpling now and, suddenly, all Calum could remember was the phone call, Michael’s words crushing his heart in his chest because it was worse than Calum had feared: “ _Ashton doesn’t get to eat. He’s looking after Harry and Lauren by himself. He has panic attacks. He cuts. He wants to **die**._ ”

By the time Calum reached Michael, he was crying again, big tears rolling down his _fat_ fucking cheeks and mingling with the raindrops soaking his skin.

“Cal,” Michael said when he was close enough, his eyes pained. Calum flinched when he remembered that Michael had heard his dad shouting but… but he was here now, outside and free beneath the rain – even if it _was_ only for a little while – and… and it didn’t matter that his heart was racing in his chest at the sight of Michael hesitantly opening his arms for Calum because… because it was dark.

Nothing that happened in the dark counted.

Michael let out a little huff of breath as Calum flung himself at him, wrapping his arms tightly around Michael’s waist and letting out a muffled sob as the red-haired boy rocked him gently, his hands carding through Calum’s dark hair with what could almost be described as reverence.

“I’ve got you,” Michael whispered and Calum remembered the song from the night they’d kissed and the sobs lodging themselves in his throat were almost impossible to breathe past now.

_**You’re all I need.** _

Calum wished this didn’t feel so right when everything was torn up between them, wished he didn’t _want_ this… wished it wasn’t the only point of light left anymore in a dark world where everything else was falling from the sky in pieces.

They didn’t go to the park that night.

They just wandered around the road in silence instead, so close that their arms were brushing in the darkness, the backs of their hands gently touching and sending little bursts of _something_ shooting up Calum’s spine, like electric shocks.

They barely spoke, only breaking the silence when Calum asked a question quietly or Michael ended up finding out about the night when Ashton had had a panic attack with Calum.

Although it wasn’t a conscious decision from either of them, somehow, their hands tangled together and Calum’s head came to rest on Michael’s shoulder, and Calum _really_ wanted to cry again but he felt so small beside the older boy; so lost – like he was _drowning_ almost – but Calum figured he wasn’t allowed to feel like this anymore. Not when Ashton was so messed up right now.

It _hurt_ Calum to realise just how far off he’d been about Ashton’s struggles, made him feel even more sick than usual that something _that_ fucking important had slipped straight past him. At least Ashton and the little ones would be safe though, away from their neglectful, alcoholic mother.

God, what a fucking mess.

Calum prayed things would get better for them.

The tightness that had rekindled in Calum’s chest the very moment Michael had started to talk on the phone earlier was finally starting to fade and Calum found he could breathe a little easier. (He tried to ignore the fact that this was probably due to his close proximity with Michael though because that wouldn’t help _anything_ and he didn’t want to start crying again.)

“It’s almost three in the morning,” Calum whispered, his voice soft and quiet in the cold darkness as Michael stood closer to him, like he was keeping the night at bay.

“We should go back…” Michael said unwillingly, his voice fading into silence. Calum nodded weakly but, before he could turn to leave, Michael reached out, giving Calum’s hand a gentle squeeze, and Michael was standing beneath a streetlight and the light mist of rain was clouding in the air and dampening his red hair, and his eyes were gleaming with what _might_ have been tears.

"I'm sorry for that day in the café," Michael said quietly and Calum gazed up at him like his heart was tearing itself apart in his chest as he pulled his oldest best friend into a hug again. Michael held him close, his lips brushing Calum’s forehead gently as the rain ran down the younger boy’s face like tears.

"I'm sorry for everything," Calum whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought!  
> I'm really excited to hear what you think <3  
> I actually can't stop writing Tempest at the moment and it feels so good.


	30. The Attention Of Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“It makes a lot of things seem kind of irrelevant,” Aleisha said suddenly, reaching into the pocket of her torn skinny jeans for a battered little tin. She sat up and crossed her legs beneath her, rolling another cigarette with an efficiency that hinted at practice. “Like… all the stuff parents go on about, y’know? They want me to have this perfect life – a husband, kids, carpool… all of it… ‘_ The whole shebang _’, I think blondie called it once but… it just seems pointless. Do you see what I mean? None of it means anything if you don’t want it to matter.”_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been planning this chapter for so so _so_ fucking long and I'm beyond excited to finally write it now!  
>  I really hope you guys will like it <3

**_Out of the corner of my eye,_ **

**_I see a spaceship in the sky,_ **

**_And hear a voice inside my head:_ **

**_Follow me instead._ **

_\- March To The Sea, Twenty One Pilots_

 

Ashton didn’t come to school for the next week and, while Calum couldn’t exactly blame his best friend, he also _really_ wished that the oldest boy would at least answer their text messages because Calum and Michael were starting to get worried again.

Somehow though, their anxiety for Ashton united them and they found that they could get on a lot better when they weren’t trying to for someone else’s sake.

Michael and Calum were starting to sit together at lunch again and an uncomfortable ceasefire was born between them. Calum didn’t eat and Michael didn’t comment on it. Calum ignored the lingering worry growing in Michael’s eyes and Michael started asking Calum round to play video games after school again (and it might have been awkward because their parents hated each other but it was worth it and Calum would take what he could get of Michael’s company, no matter _how_ much it kept him awake at night).

Calum still wasn’t _completely_ comfortable with his oldest best friend though – privately the football captain worried that maybe he never _would_ be and that was enough to make a lump rise in his throat – and that was the main reason that Calum politely declined Michael’s offer of accompanying the red-haired boy and a selection of their classmates to a club on Friday night.

Calum decided to go for a walk instead once he sat at home and found that he regretted his decision. He could hear his parents arguing downstairs in angry whisper-shouts and the emptiness of Mali’s room seemed to beat through Calum’s veins like infected blood.

The night was cold though and the stars were twinkling overhead as Calum raised the hood of his jacket, striding along beneath the vast empty sky as a tiny airplane soared overhead, its green and red lights flashing in the inky darkness as it went on its way.

Calum wondered where it was going. He wondered how long it would take to get there.

Calum found himself in the expensive side of town almost without meaning to and he felt out of place there as he walked along beneath the amber glow of the streetlights. His parents had always fought to have money and luxury – they’d always been _desperate_ to be rich and have lovely things – but it came naturally to the old families who lived in the huge homes lining this road.

Calum couldn’t imagine what it would be like to actually _live_ here but he supposed it wouldn’t really be that different if he was still with his family… without Mali.

Her old school was round here somewhere actually – the private school Kings that had better uniforms than Calum’s school had, according to his mother – and he found that the knots in his hollow stomach tightened painfully at the thought of Joy.

Calum was fairly certain that Ashton’s grandparents lived round here somewhere too. Thinking back to where Ashton and the little ones had lived before, Calum supposed this just went to show how much things could change.

Calum realised distractedly that he had stopped walking in the middle of the pavement and he began anew, trudging along with his head down as he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. It felt like a metaphor for most of his life up to this point and that realisation set tears burning in Calum’s tired, chocolate brown eyes.

There was a girl who looked about Calum’s age lying on her back in the middle of the deserted road.

Calum noticed her quite suddenly, his slow steps faltering as he spotted her in the darkness. She was lying flat on her back with long sandy hair and a cigarette pinched between her finger and thumb. Her lipstick was dark and her expression was vacant as she lay there, breathing out smoke into the empty darkness.

“It’s probably not a good idea to smoke there,” Calum said after a long moment. The girl raised her head and regarded him coolly for several long moments before she settled back down again.

Her voice was sugary soft and it sounded strange around the vulgar language that came spewing out of her mouth when she told Calum – rather impolitely in his opinion – to mind his own business.

“Sorry,” Calum said and the girl fixed him with another long look before she patted the ground next to her in invitation.

Calum stretched out on the tarmac before he could properly process it.

“Do you come here often?” he asked before he realised how ridiculously cliché that sounded. The strange girl laughed, running a hand through her sandy hair as her hard eyes drifted over Calum’s face.

“Sometimes,” she said at last before she jammed the cigarette back between her lips again. The smell of the smoke was strange when combined with the cloying flowery fragrance of her perfume but she was wearing combat boots that were scuffed just like Michael’s were and her eyeliner was smudged like she’d been crying.

She looked like one of those strange photos Calum had seen on Tumblr, of girls with dark eyes and darker hearts lying in the middle of the road in the dark, risking their lives for the attention of strangers.

Calum wondered what it would be like to be that desperate for attention… and then he wondered if maybe he already knew.

“You have eyes that have seen too much,” the girl said, glancing at Calum out of the corner of her own before she focused on her cigarette again. She exhaled smoke and Calum watched it coil into the cool air. He stretched the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands to hide that they were trembling.

“Maybe you’re right,” Calum said at last, his soft voice just loud enough that the girl could hear him from where she was lying a metre or so away. Calum spread out like a snow angel almost, like he kind of _wanted_ a truck to come roaring round the corner and finish his story early because he just hurt so _much_ these days and –

“What’s your name?” the girl asked suddenly, distracting Calum from his barbed thoughts. He opened his dark eyes and they held the same emptiness that hers did.

“I’m Cal,” he said. “Calum. Cal. Whatever.”

“Hi, whatever,” she said and Calum rolled his eyes so hard that it actually kind of hurt.

“Oh look, we have a comedian on our hands,” he said stupidly and the strange girl smiled at him as she stubbed her cigarette out on the ground.

“There’s no one else here, Calum,” she said but her eyes were twinkling faintly now, like stars shining through clouds. His name sounded strange coming out of her mouth. “I’m Aleisha by the way.” Her eyes were a little brighter than before as she spread out too, scuffing her boots on the dusty ground as she took up as much space as possible. “Do you live round here? I’ve never seen you around.”

“I don’t live in _this_ part of town,” Calum said after a moment. “But I do live in Sydney.”

“Oh… Guess that explains why I’ve never seen you at Kings then,” she said at last.

“Yeah, I’m not there. My sister used to go there though… and she teaches these dance classes there now.”

“ _Oh_ ,” the girl – Aleisha – repeated but she was smiling slightly now. “Blondie goes to those dance classes. Huh.” The sandy-haired girl’s lips twitched weakly but she didn’t explain who the mysterious ‘blondie’ was. “Small world.”

“The smallest,” Calum agreed as one of his hands drifted to pinch subtly at the skin of his hip, visible where the hem of his hoodie had slipped up.

“It makes a lot of things seem kind of irrelevant,” Aleisha said suddenly, reaching into the pocket of her torn skinny jeans for a battered little tin. She sat up and crossed her legs beneath her, rolling another cigarette with an efficiency that hinted at practice. “Like… all the stuff parents go on about, y’know? They want me to have this perfect life – a husband, kids, carpool… all of it… ‘ _The whole shebang_ ’, I think blondie called it once but… it just seems pointless. Do you see what I mean? None of it _means_ anything if you don’t want it to matter.”

That hit home hard and Calum sat up shakily, swallowing past the lump in his throat as he looked at her. A car turned the corner slowly up ahead, the washed-out yellow of its headlights tearing through the darkness like fangs as the pair of teenagers grudgingly moved to sit on the curb instead.

“I know just what you mean,” Calum said, pulling his feet back to safety as the car drove past, just a little too close for comfort.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one then,” Aleisha said at length. A cool breeze was beginning to pick up now and Calum’s hood fell down so that the wind ruffled his dark curls. Aleisha watched his hair with something like jealousy, picking at a strand of her own long, straight, sandy-coloured hair with distaste. “It’s annoying though… to feel pressurised to live a certain way for somebody else. I can’t stand feeling that… that _trapped_.”

Calum didn’t know how to make her feel better but he didn’t just want to assume, didn’t want to touch her if it was going to upset her or whatever because… damnit, he didn’t even _know_ her. This whole situation was just incredibly fucked up.

“It was the same with my older brother too,” Aleisha said in a tiny little voice. She raised her new cigarette to her lips and lit it with the lighter she had stowed in the pocket of her leather jacket. “Jase went off the rails last year, y’know,” she said conversationally, her voice thick like she was trying not to cry. “Got put in prison for dealing drugs. He used to be a drama student when he was at school… and now he’s in prison. It’s crazy, isn’t it? How much things change. Everyone’s going on about university at school at the moment too but… but I don’t want that… even though _that’s_ expected of me too… It just… It feels like I don’t even know which way is up sometimes… and I _hate_ it.”

Calum nodded mutely in agreement and Aleisha drew her legs up to her chest, wrapping an arm around them and resting her chin on her knees as she took a drag of the cigarette.

“I can’t even be happy with blondie anymore,” Aleisha whispered and Calum saw her eyes welling up with tears. He bit his bottom lip hard and his hand was _trembling_ when he reached out shakily to pat one scuffed combat boot.

She gave a weak snort of watery laughter and Calum’s cheeks flushed.

“I have no idea why I’m opening up to you so much,” Aleisha confessed after a long moment and Calum watched her wordlessly. “You’re a total stranger. It… it should feel _weird_.”

“But I don’t think it does,” Calum pointed out, his voice small and uncertain. Calum shrugged though because he really didn’t mind. “As long as it makes you feel better then that’s what matters,” he said after a moment and the girl watched him curiously as she took a long drag of her cigarette.

“You’re a lot kinder than you seem to give yourself credit for,” she said.

Calum didn’t answer but he hoped that this wasn’t the last time he saw Aleisha.

She was interesting.

She distracted him from the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a character I have missed so much.  
> I always planned for this but it never fit into Maelstrom properly so I decided not to force it but I'm going to finally let this relationship run its course in Tempest because it's been playing on my mind and I can't get it out of my head.  
> Please please let me know what you think - I love hearing your feedback!  
> Thank you so much for reading <3


	31. Violent Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum wished he was crying solely about Ashton but… but that just wasn’t_ true _and maybe that made him feel worse than anything because… because Calum’s tears felt_ selfish _as they leaked down his cheeks, crying because existing was never supposed to_ hurt _so fucking much._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really really angsty.  
> Also, trigger warning for eating disorders/purging.  
> Please be safe <3

**_You make my whole world feel so right when it’s wrong._ **

**_That’s how I know you are the one._ **

**_That’s why I know you are the one._ **

_\- The One, Kodaline_

 

Calum wished he couldn’t see how goddamn _perfect_ Michael was for him. He wished for that almost as much as he wished that he’d never felt this way in the first place.

Calum’s heart felt too large for his chest, like it was pressing against his ribcage and bending the bones out of shape as it thumped too hard within its fragile confines, shards of bone threatening to shatter and pierce and cut.

Ashton came back to school on Monday and he looked _smaller_ than usual somehow, wary and upset and so pale that it frightened Calum. Ashton looked exhausted but his arms still wrapped hesitantly around the red-haired boy’s shoulders when Michael pulled him into a hug and the hopelessness Calum could see etched onto Ashton’s tired face fucking _hurt_.

Ashton pulled away from Michael quickly and the smaller boy’s face became _terrified_ when he looked at Calum, and that was even more painful because the dark-haired boy hadn’t seen Ashton since the day his mum had been taken to hospital and Calum had learnt the truth.

Calum remembered Michael’s words – “ _He has panic attacks. He cuts. He wishes he was dead._ ” – and Calum suddenly couldn’t breathe past the lump in his throat as he drew Ashton into a hug.

“I missed you, buddy,” Calum whispered and Ashton clung to him harder, clearly fighting to pretend that he wasn’t crying as he tucked his face away out of sight, pressing his cold little nose into the warm skin of Calum’s neck.

Michael made a stupid joke when they broke apart, muttered: “No homo” because he was kind of lame and he’d never known how to react in serious situations, but there was resentment in his tone and Calum _really_ hoped Michael wasn’t going to start making this difficult again, even as he crumbled a little, desperately wishing that he hadn’t enjoyed things being easier between them again.

Ashton saw the poorly-disguised pain in Calum’s eyes and his brow creased faintly, and Calum got that feeling of prickly defensiveness again, of wanting to take care of Ashton and protect him from their fucking mess because he deserved safety more than any of them.

“We’ve got football second lesson, right?” Ashton asked suddenly, apparently trying to distract Calum as his expression became warier than ever. Ashton glanced between both of his best friends looking lost.

“Yeah, if you still want to,” Calum said heavily. He didn’t want Ashton to feel obligated to do this if it was something _else_ adding to his unhappiness. He just wanted the curly-haired boy to feel okay again.

“Yeah, if you’ll have me,” Ashton mumbled, his cheeks flaming. Calum tried to smile warmly at Ashton but even he could tell that his eyes were sad and empty.

“We’ll always have you, Ash,” the dark-haired boy promised and, despite everything, Michael stepped close enough that their arms brushed as he nodded in agreement.

“C’mon,” Michael said, wrapping his arm around Ashton’s narrow waist as he led him off. “Can’t be late for your first class.”

Calum lingered behind them, dragging his feet until they were both out of sight. His eyes were burning with tears and his hands were shaking faintly.

The bathroom was empty when Calum reached it and he stumbled into a cubicle, falling against the door to get it shut behind him before he slid down onto the floor with his head in his hands.

He’d watched Romeo and Juliet last night, staying up watching it until his eyes were sliding shut and his exhaustion had dragged him into unconsciousness, and there was only one line echoing around his head now: “ _These violent delights have violent ends._ ”

Calum wished he was crying solely about Ashton but… but that just wasn’t _true_ and maybe that made him feel worse than anything because… because Calum’s tears felt _selfish_ as they leaked down his cheeks, crying because existing was never supposed to _hurt_ so fucking much.

Calum thought about that quote for the rest of the day, drifted through the corridors at school with screaming in his ears and the image of Nina’s nails biting into her skin as she raked her nails across her back.

Calum felt sick by the time he got home and that only got worse when he walked into the frosty atmosphere at home and was told in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t allowed to miss dinner again. Joy had made ravioli of some sort – apparently she’d given up on her diet of solely drinking smoothies – and Calum’s heart was beating way too hard in his chest as he sank down shakily into a chair opposite his father.

He tried just pushing the little parcels of pasta around his plate with his fork first but David’s barked: “Eat properly, boy!” was the last straw. Calum gave up.

His stomach twisted itself into knots as he ate unwillingly, a heavy uncomfortable silence settling over the table as he shovelled piece after piece into his too-dry mouth. Joy and David kept glancing at him uncertainly, clearly wondering why his expression was akin to someone who was being poisoned as he let his cutlery fall onto his empty plate with a clatter.

“Please may I be excused?” Calum asked quietly and his voice was so dangerously soft that his parents actually didn’t argue as they let him go. Calum could feel the food sitting heavily in his stomach as he walked up the stairs.

His phone vibrated in his pocket when he reached the landing and Calum answered it on autopilot, raising it without looking at the caller ID as his stomach churned with nausea.

“Hello?” His voice sounded soft and weak to his own ears, and Calum bit down on his full bottom lip hard when he heard the answer.

“Squirt? It’s Mali.”

It felt like being punched in the stomach, felt like all of the air had been driven from his lungs as he disappeared into his bedroom quickly, shutting the door behind him like he had done that day in the toilets at school, crying like his heart was tearing itself apart in his chest.

“How’re you?” Calum asked, fighting to inject a little fake enthusiasm into his voice so that she didn’t end up thinking something ridiculous like he hadn’t even _missed_ her or something. “How’s your friend? How’s Canberra?”

Mali laughed faintly at all of the questions but she seemed happy enough to answer them. Calum let the words wash over him. Mali sounded content and that was what mattered.

He couldn’t even find it in himself to feel betrayed that this was only the second time she’d called him since she’d left. As long as she was having fun – as long as she was _safe_ – then that was all that mattered.

Mali started asking about school, about Ashton and Michael and Violet who Calum hadn’t even _spoken_ to properly since the day she’d forgiven him, and Calum was lying through his teeth as he convinced her that everything here was okay.

She ended the call sounding happier than she had done at the beginning. Calum’s hands were trembling again and the anxiety in his hollow chest was wretched.

Calum’s parents were fighting downstairs – he could hear it in their snapped words and the careful measure of venom in David’s tone, just enough that Joy could still walk away from whatever he spat at her – but they both faltered when Calum yelled down that he was taking a shower.

He locked the bathroom door behind him, turned the water on full blast and unlocked his phone with shaking hands, searching for music he could play loud enough that his parents wouldn’t be able to hear him.

“ _Can you hear the silence? Can you see the dark? Can you fix the broken? Can you feel… can you feel my heart?_ ”

The determination was fiery in his chest, curling through his stomach and rooting deep inside him where he couldn’t shake free of it even if he’d _wanted_ to –

But Calum didn’t want to.

The bathroom tiles were cold on his knees through the thin black material of his school trousers. Bring Me The Horizon was blaring from his phone, the words distorted beneath the sound of the water thundering against the shower floor.

“ _Can you help the hopeless? Well, I'm begging on my knees. Can you save my bastard soul? Will you ache for me?_ ”

Calum had never purged properly before. He’d always got too scared, lacked the motivation, overthought too much… but his mind was empty tonight, whirling with loss and pain but _empty_. Numb.

The words of the song and the sound of the shower seemed to fade when Calum stuck his fingers down his throat because the sudden instinctive panic as he heaved made everything else feel insignificant by comparison.

Calum squeezed his eyes shut, fought through it as he tore his hand away and emptied his twisting stomach into the toilet. Calum could scarcely catch his breath and his throat was burning as tears leaked down his cheeks.

“ _I'm scared to get close and I hate being alone. I long for that feeling to not feel at all._ ”

The porcelain was cool against Calum’s over-heated skin and the rasping sobs tearing out of his sore throat were quiet as his curls stuck to the cold sweat beading on his forehead.

“ _The higher I get, the lower I’ll sink._ ”

The tears were rolling down Calum’s cheeks faster as he flushed the toilet and rose on shaking legs, almost stumbling into the wall.

“ _I can’t drown my demons. They know how to swim._ ”

His breath was catching in his sore throat and it had hurt so much more than Calum had expected but he didn’t care.

It was no more than he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one screwed me up a lot so I'm not going to rush to write the next update but it'll be within a week I should think.  
> Hopefully this was okay. Please let me know what you thought - thank you for reading <3


	32. In Silent Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum kept losing himself in the memories, in the ‘_ what ifs _’ that made his breath catch in his throat when he pictured Michael’s emerald green eyes fixed on his face._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took a little longer than anticipated.  
> Things are not amazing right now. This was hard.  
> Sorry it's not better.

**_There's an itch,_ **

**_Under my skin._ **

**_It's under my skin,_ **

**_Under my skin._ **

_\- Itch, Nothing But Thieves_

 

By late March, autumn had rushed over Australia with little more than a rustle of wind. The leaves on the trees turned the colour of gemstones and Calum’s control was crumbling.

His eyes were bloodshot and his throat felt sore all the time. There was a sore patch of skin on the back of Calum’s hand where he’d scraped it with his teeth when he was sticking his fingers down his throat that refused to heal and… and he found himself staring at it sometimes, just looking at it when he was at school or sitting with his parents at the dinner table. He found himself mesmerised by it almost, because he knew what it meant and nobody else did.

That one tiny mark… Calum’s life falling apart.

“Cal, are you okay?”

" _Huh_?” Calum jerked his head up to see everyone leaving the classroom. Michael had already gone - Calum noticed that instantly - but Violet was watching Calum with anxious eyes.

“Calum?” she asked softly. The dark-haired boy shook his head, forcing a smile onto his tired face as he rose on shaky legs and started shoving his books into his bag.

“I’m fine,” he promised as convincingly as he could. Violet’s braids were longer now as they fell around her heart-shaped face. Calum felt sick.

“I’ll see you next science lesson,” he said hurriedly, forcing another weak smile before he turned and followed Michael out of the room.

Things were hard between them lately. Even harder than usual maybe. They were still both worrying about Ashton, still trying to ignore their own problems and praying that they’d go away… still coexisting side by side in silent pain.

Calum wished he knew where everything had gone wrong between them. He didn’t even count that night with the kiss anymore because, deep down, he knew that it must have been a long, _long_ time before that.

Calum kept losing himself in the memories, in the ‘ _what ifs_ ’ that made his breath catch in his throat when he pictured Michael’s emerald green eyes fixed on his face. Calum was still twisted up in his barbed thoughts when his phone rang that evening with an unexpected incoming call from Ashton.

“Hey, Ash,” Calum said, settling down on his bed and stretching out in the hope that maybe his stomach would look flatter like that. It didn’t work though and Calum’s nausea churned inside him as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Are you okay?” the dark-haired boy asked and it came out sounding breathless.

“I… I think so.” Ashton let out a soft sigh and Calum bit his lip as he listened.

“What’s wrong, bud?”

“Nan and grandpa bought me stuff, Cal, and… I’m kind of freaking out about it.” Ashton laughed but the sound was brittle, like he was breaking. “I got a drum kit from grandpa. And… and they got _me_ a car…”

“Ashy, that’s fantastic!” Calum tried to be happy but he could feel the worry niggling in his empty chest because Ashton hadn’t passed his test yet. Calum _knew_ the older boy had driven his mum’s car illegally but he didn’t think Ashton’s grandparents were aware of that.

“I had to tell them that I don’t have my licence yet,” Ashton said softly, his voice trembling slightly like he knew what the younger boy was thinking. “I had to tell them - I had to -”

“ _Ashy_?” Calum asked, voice tight now because Ashton was gasping a little bit as he drew in breath. “Bud, please, just focus on breathing, okay? It’s alright. It’s all going to be okay.”

_Lies, lies, **lies**._

Calum didn’t think it was going to be okay ever again but Ashton didn’t need to know that.

No one did.

“I… I had to tell them about when I… when I drove without a licence… before…” Ashton’s voice shook and Calum hated that he could perfectly picture the pain that must be saturating the older boy’s expression right now. “Before,” Ashton repeated and he sounded even more upset now. “When… when she was too drunk to… to wake up…”

Ashton sniffed and Calum could almost see the tears rolling down Ashton’s flushed cheeks now.

“I’m so sorry, Ashy,” the dark-haired boy whispered and he felt _bereft_ , wanted nothing more than to hold Ashton in his arms, tightly enough that he didn’t fall apart.

“I crashed her car once... ages ago now,” Ashton said suddenly, his voice small and hopeless and suspiciously wet, like he was still crying. “Do you remember when I didn’t come to school for a week? At the beginning of last year?”

“Yes,” Calum whispered but, somehow, Ashton heard him.

“I cut my head… pranged her car pretty bad. She was so pissed at me, Cal.” Ashton laughed again and it sounded like broken glass. “... and I never told any of you. I’m so _sorry_.”

“Ash,” Calum breathed but he was fighting not to cry now because he’d never noticed and he _should_ have done… should have noticed that Ashton was tearing himself apart inside - just like Calum was now maybe - but the younger boy _hadn’t_ noticed.

He hadn’t _let_ himself notice because he didn’t want anything to be wrong… didn’t want Ashton to be _hurting_.

But Ashton was. He always had been.

“I’m sorry I never knew,” Calum whispered, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t have a chance to shake. “I’m sorry I didn’t know you were hurting so bad. I’m sorry I didn’t know you were… were harming yourself… Ash, fuck, I’m _sorry_. I can never apologise enough.”

There were tears rolling down Calum’s sunken cheeks now but at least his tears were silent.

“Calum, this isn’t your _fault_ ,” Ashton said imploringly but he let out a sniffle, small and pathetic-sounding, and Calum wanted to wrap him in his arms and hold him together.

“When… when did you start?” Calum whispered and it took a few seconds for the older boy to process the question. Ashton exhaled shakily when he did and Calum worried his lip between his teeth as he waited with bated breath.

“It was…” Ashton swallowed audibly. “It’s been years.” A lump rose in Calum’s throat but he stayed silent, sensing that the older boy needed to get this off his chest.

“It’s how I cope… Cutting,” Ashton said and he gave another of those self-deprecating little laughs, the ones that felt like they were puncturing Calum’s lungs and stealing his oxygen supply.

“ _Ash_ ,” Calum murmured but it came out sounding like he’d been kicked in the chest because… because Calum couldn't understand how cutting helped _anything_ before he began to wonder if maybe it was the same as pinching himself or punching a wall - punching _himself_ or… or making himself sick… or maybe that was something else entirely.

The younger boy closed his dark eyes tightly, shuddering as his hollow stomach tied itself into knots.

Calum didn’t want to think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think if you don't mind...  
> Hope you're all okay <3


	33. Hit Close To Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“What am I then?” Calum whispered after a moment and his voice was shaking. “I like girls but I think there’s a tiny chance I might be in love with my best friend Michael.”_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was quite cathartic to write and I'm not sure why.  
> Hopefully you guys will enjoy it.

**_Is it love tonight when everyone's dreaming of a better life?_ **

**_In this world, divided by fear,_ **

**_We've gotta believe that there's a reason we're here._ **

_\- Our Lives, The Calling_

 

Calum’s breath clouded in the dark air in front of him as he walked down Aleisha’s road.

It was cold and damp, the street completely deserted as he walked across the wet tarmac. His curls were sticking to his forehead in the light mist of rain and his dark eyes were tired as he buried his hands in the pockets of his ripped skinny jeans.

Aleisha was sitting on the bench in her front garden, hidden behind the curtain of long, sweeping willow tree branches that brushed the dew-wet grass. Her house was dark and the driveway was empty of cars but the younger girl had opted to stay outside despite this.

“I like the night-time,” Aleisha said when Calum asked her, stubbing her cigarette out on the damp wood and letting the stub fall down into the grass. “And the rain. It’s soothing.”

“It’s _wet_ ,” Calum objected weakly and Aleisha raised an eyebrow as he dropped down onto the bench beside her, drawing his knees up to his chest as the damp wood chilled him.

“Of course it’s wet, Calum,” Aleisha said with a roll of her eyes. “That’s why it’s rain.”

They’d been texting recently, whenever one of them couldn’t skip dinner and escape to meet up. Calum liked it because it was something new and exciting, something different that distracted him from his parents and Mali’s absence and Ashton’s pain and… and **Michael**.

Aleisha distracted Calum from Michael.

“Good day?” the dark-haired boy asked carefully and Aleisha bristled defensively.

“That was very stereotypically Australian of you,” she teased and Calum couldn’t even find it stupid because it was clearly a deflection.

“That bad?” he asked quietly and she kind of deflated at that, slumping back against the wood and letting her head fall to rest against the back of the bench as she gazed up into the shadowy recesses of the tree.

“Had another fight with blondie today,” she said quietly and Calum fixed Aleisha with a long look, trying to ignore the painful clenching of his empty stomach as he watched her carefully.

“Is blondie your girlfriend?” Calum said and Aleisha looked up in surprise, a startled laugh escaping her.

“No. He’s my boyfriend.” She looked faintly confused. “Why’d you think that?”

“I thought you were a lesbian,” Calum said with a shrug. Aleisha laughed but she was watching the dark-haired boy curiously, her pale eyes twinkling in the darkness.

“There’s a lot more sexualities than that, Cal,” she said but she didn’t sound like she was judging him exactly… just making a point maybe.

“I _know_. Duh.” Calum hesitated. “Like… like what?” he asked and her smile grew. Calum didn’t like feeling ignorant because that felt like a great way to let her down and lose her as well, and Calum didn’t want to lose Aleisha.

She was exhilarating and unlike anyone Calum had met before, and he wanted to figure her out, put all the puzzle pieces back together and see what she looked like when she wasn’t hiding.

“There’s a whole spectrum, Cal,” Aleisha said and it took Calum a moment to remember that he was being educated now. “There’s heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, asexual, transsexual, pansexual, demisexual…. There’s so many more though – those are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head… and then there’s people who are none of them… and it’s the same with genders! It’s –”

“Confusing,” Calum murmured and Aleisha’s face softened as her sandy-coloured hair drifted over her shoulders in the light breeze. They were sheltered from the worst of the rain beneath the willow tree but drops of it still found their way onto their upturned faces, rolling down their cheeks like tears.

“What am I then?” Calum whispered after a moment and his voice was shaking. “I like girls but I think there’s a tiny chance I might be in love with my best friend Michael.”

It felt strange to say those words out loud. It felt like swallowing shards of glass but it also felt like the sunlight was warming his skin and… and Calum didn’t know what to do.

“Oh,” Aleisha said and one of her eyebrows was raised again but her eyes were sad now. “I wanted to make a sarcastic comment about learning more about the elusive Calum Hood but I don’t think I’m allowed now. That’s just really sad.”

“Yeah,” Calum mumbled but his eyes were empty now as he gazed unseeingly into the darkness. Aleisha shuffled closer after a moment, hesitating before she let her head fall to rest lightly against his shoulder. Her hair smelt like apples and smoke, and her eyes fluttered shut when the dark-haired boy gave her shoulder a weak squeeze.

“I don’t know what I am,” Calum whispered, feeling faintly uncomfortable now because the knowledge that maybe everything wasn’t quite so clear cut hit close to home but his parents had never said any of this before and Calum didn’t even know if it was _real_.

“Maybe you don’t have to label yourself, Cal,” Aleisha said softly when she saw the faint panic burning in his eyes. “If it doesn’t make you feel better then don’t do it. It’s not necessary. It’s a choice.”

Calum didn’t look convinced and Aleisha’s expression tightened with what _might_ have been pain.

“It’ll get better,” she promised but her eyes were almost as empty as Calum’s and she didn’t look like she really believed those words either.

“This is a mess,” Calum said and the tiny bubble of laughter that escaped him sounded like Ashton… or **Nina** … Small and sharp and _hurting_.

“It is,” the younger girl agreed, running her fingers through her rain wet hair and watching Calum with fathomless eyes. “I think blondie’s gay,” she said suddenly and Calum looked up at her with wide eyes. “That sounds really bad I think but… but I don’t know. I wouldn’t care. I just want him to tell me so we can fix everything but… but I try and it comes out wrong, sounds like I’m _judging_ him or something and… and then he gets defensive and it’s so _frustrating_ , Cal! _He’s_ so frustrating.”

Aleisha dropped her head into her hands so her words came out muffled but he could tell she was angry by the set of her jaw.

“I swear I hate him sometimes,” she said and the laugh that escaped her after those words sounded more like a scoff. “But I love him anyway. Just… maybe not in the right way, y’know?”

Calum wasn’t sure he was the right person to ask about this but he stayed quiet, figuring that listening and attempting to understand was the very least he could do for her.

“He always moans about his family too and I don’t know why,” Aleisha said with a heavy sigh. “They seem nice to me.”

Calum snorted because he knew that didn’t mean _anything_ and she retaliated by nudging him lightly in the ribs with her elbow, and the fluttering of panic Calum felt at the prospect of her feeling how fat he was faded away when she spoke next.

“This is a fucking mess. Would you like to get drunk with me, Calum? Because getting drunk alone sucks and you look like you’d sing when you’re drunk.”

The dark-haired boy’s lips twitched into a weak smile and Aleisha watched him hopefully.

“It _has_ been known,” Calum mumbled and Aleisha gave him a weak smile.

“Come on then,” the sandy-haired girl said as she rose stiffly from the bench, brushing herself free of any fallen willow leaves that had happened to cling to her damp jeans. “My best friend Ashley has a life-time supply of alcohol I swear. I think _she’ll_ like you too.”

Calum was kind of glowing at that because, despite everything, someone had just confirmed that they liked him and there were no strings attached, and Aleisha didn’t make his heart hurt any worse than it already did.

Aleisha smiled, small and sad, like she knew what he was thinking.

She held Calum’s hand as they walked to Ashley’s house.

Neither of them spoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three guesses who Ashley is.  
> Thank you for reading - please let me know what you think <3


	34. White-Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“You did great, Ash,” Calum said softly but his dark eyes lingered on Michael’s face and the older boy wondered what it meant._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so fucking angsty. Even worse to write a second time I think.  
> Wow. My heart hurts. I need a cookie.

_**You know there ain't no rest for the wicked,** _

_**Until we close our eyes for good.** _

_\- Ain't No Rest For The Wicked, Cage The Elephant_

 

It was cold in the stands.

Michael’s school jumper was doing absolutely _nothing_ to ward off the chill but he didn’t have the energy to go and wait for his friends inside. The team was playing a football game against a neighbouring school and Michael could hear Calum shouting from where he was sitting, just close enough that he saw Ashton make a truly spectacular save that ultimately won them the game.

Ashton was so happy when he hurtled out of the changing rooms afterwards, crashing straight into Michael’s arms and hiding his smile in his neck.

“You were so good!” the taller boy promised, dropping a kiss onto Ashton’s curls and feeling his lips tugging up into a smile when Ashton bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet.

Calum didn’t look anywhere _near_ as happy when he emerged from the changing rooms – he looked hungover actually although Michael couldn’t imagine who he’d been out drinking with – but he still managed a weak smile when he saw the pair waiting for him.

“You did great, Ash,” Calum said softly but his dark eyes lingered on Michael’s face and the older boy wondered what it meant.

They decided to go round Michael’s to play Fifa on the walk home. Ashton accepted at once – Michael tried to suppress worrying thoughts that maybe Ashton didn’t want to go to his _new_ home either because surely that couldn’t be the case – but Calum looked like he was fighting tears when he said he’d come too.

Truth be told, Michael hadn’t been expecting him to agree. Nor had Ashton.

Michael felt warmer during the walk home and it helped that the curly-haired boy seemed so happy now but, by comparison, Calum grew quieter and quieter before he finally muttered something about going home to wash up first.

Ashton looked upset when Calum jogged towards his house and Michael bit his lip, worrying again… always worrying.

Karen was home when Michael unlocked the door and the red-haired boy fought not to cringe when she appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Hello, Mrs Clifford,” Ashton said gently, all wide hazel eyes and honey-coloured curls. He looked small and fragile – almost as tiny as _Calum_ did sometimes – and Michael didn’t want Ashton _close_ to his mother when she was sneering at them like that.

“You’re covered in mud, Ashton,” Karen said heavily and only Michael saw the flash of anger in her eyes because he knew her so well.

“We had football,” Ashton said, his voice soft and quiet, and Michael stood a little in front of the smaller boy, the faded injuries on his face that his mother had put there flaring when her eyes settled on him irritably.

“Ash can shower here though, mum… right?”

“Right,” she said grudgingly, flashing Ashton a tight smile before she disappeared back into the kitchen. “Don’t make too much noise please. I’m very busy.”

“Of course not,” Michael said with just enough acid in his voice that the older boy looked up at him with wide eyes. “Calum’s coming round in a bit too, mum. Send him up for me?”

Michael scampered up the stairs before Karen could call him out on it and Ashton’s eyes were still wide when Michael gave him a gentle push towards the bathroom, handing him a towel and pointing him in the direction of the shower gel before he found Ashton some clothes he could wear.

“I’ll see you in a little bit,” Michael said before he walked back into his bedroom as calmly as he could. His hands were shaking a little bit. The skin around his mouth felt too tight.

He kind of hated his mum sometimes.

By the time Ashton appeared – just as Calum was coming up the stairs actually – Michael had cleaned his hands with his anti-bacterial hand sanitiser four times. His hands felt sore again and not even _close_ to clean but he found himself distracted when Calum sat down hesitantly on the red-haired boy’s bed with flaming cheeks, dressed in one of Michael’s oversized jumpers that he’d lent Calum a long time ago.

Michael felt the sad recognition in his eyes and the dark-haired boy looked away, drawing his knees up to his chest as he sat beside Ashton. It hurt that things were so hard between them now, made a lump rise in Michael’s throat when Calum settled down on the bed with his head resting on Ashton’s thigh and the older boy carded his fingers through Calum’s dark hair gently.

Calum was fighting not to cry as he lay there. He could _feel_ Michael’s gaze fixed heavily on him, hated the response it had, hated that his heart pounded too hard in his chest and his pulse roaring in his ears sounded like **Michael**.

“When’re you going to stop pretending that everything’s okay between you two, Mikey? Because it clearly isn’t,” Ashton said suddenly, breaking the silence as they waited for the game to load. Calum was more than half asleep by now since he hadn’t been sleeping well at home and it was only because of this that he managed not to react.

“It’s fine,” Michael said but he didn’t sound convincing. He didn’t even seem to believe _himself_. “Look, I’ve done everything I can do now. I told him how I felt and then we tried to talk again that night we got coffee but it was so awkward and… I just… I’m tired of it, okay? He clearly wants to forget that night at the party ever happened and I’m not going to stop him, Ash.”

Calum tensed, his eyes pressed tightly shut as he focused on keeping his breathing steady except… except it was _hard_ because it sounded like maybe Michael didn’t _care_ about him anymore… maybe he didn’t **love** him because Calum had hurt him too badly and now their relationship was irreparable.

“But you said you were in love with him,” Ashton said softly and Calum’s dark, empty eyes were swimming with tears behind their lids as he fought against his shudders, not wanting to alert them to the fact that he was actually still awake. “You _fell_ in love with him. Is it really so easy to write it all off?”

It was like Ashton could read Calum’s mind and the knowledge that maybe the younger boy was finally going to get an _answer_ made Calum feel sicker than usual. He could feel his stomach twisting and knotting as he froze, waiting with bated breath for the moment when Michael tore everything apart.

“I don’t care about it anymore.” Michael’s voice was rough and Calum’s breath escaped him in a little gasp that no one else heard. “If I fell in love with Calum, I can fall out of it just as easily. I don’t care anymore.”

Ashton was still stroking Calum’s soft curls but his large hands were shaking now. Calum could _feel_ it as he fought against the hot tears boiling up in his eyes.

An awkward silence grew but, after a moment, Michael gave a soft sigh and picked up one of the controllers, passing it to Ashton after a moment’s hesitation.

It was so hard not to cry now but Calum was fighting for control, relieved that he had his façade of sleep to cling on to because at least it was something to distract himself with.

Calum could hear the sounds of the game now and that helped too. He could lose himself in the soft cheers or boos of the crowd and the irritatingly repetitive music as one of them scored a goal. It was probably Michael if the way he mumbled a soft ‘yes’ under his breath was anything to go by.

Calum couldn’t imagine Michael being that excited about playing football in real life but he entertained thoughts of it for a moment, imagined Michael playing on the team with his messy red hair and his shorts clinging to his pale thighs as he kicked the football hard into the goal, muscles rippling and short hair tousled in the wind and… and that made Calum think of _other_ things too… made him think of Michael with his head pressed back into the pillows, biting down on his lip as Calum traced the muscles in his chest with his tongue… _tasted_ him maybe and –

Calum had never felt so conflicted in his _life_ as he did in that moment.

Michael and Ashton were still talking quietly but their soft voices made Calum press his lips hard together because he fucking _hated_ that they felt the need to tiptoe around him, trying not to wake him up. Like the sleeping giant in the storybooks Calum had read as a child… Like he was someone they should be wary of.

Calum supposed it was his own fault and maybe that was the very worst part. Calum had done this to himself. He’d infuriated his parents and driven Mali away and hurt his best friends.

Calum had wrecked _everything_.

Ashton went quiet suddenly, tense and worried and – for just a split second – Calum was terrified that the older boy knew what he was thinking about –

And then Ashton turned everything upside down with what he asked Michael next.

“How did you know you liked boys as well as girls?”

Ashton was asking the question. That most likely meant that he was already thinking it except… except Ashton was _straight_ , wasn’t he?

Calum remembered Aleisha’s words though, remembered that there were a lot more labels than that and… and maybe they didn’t even _apply_ to Ashton… or maybe it was just none of Calum’s fucking business and he had no right being shocked by this.

It hurt though… the knowledge that maybe Ashton had been hiding even more from them than he’d ever let on.

“Um… I…” Michael seemed to shake his surprise away but Calum could picture the way his beautiful eyes would look, wide with surprise and slightly dazed like they did sometimes when someone caught him by surprise. “I… uh… I kind of always did so… it wasn’t exactly some shocking revelation… Uh… Why do you ask, Ash?”

Calum’s eyes were still pressed shut tightly but he was listening so hard now that he could hear the tiny ragged breaths escaping Ashton, the soft sigh that escaped Michael, presumably at whatever expression he could see colouring the older boy’s face.

It was probably self-loathing. That was the one Ashton wore most and it fucking _hurt_.

 **Everything** did.

“I… I’ve never really liked a girl before so I wondered if… you know… maybe it was something that had happened to me?” Ashton’s voice was weak and embarrassed. Calum wanted to hold him but he wanted to shake him more because… because Ashton was braver than Calum – that much was _painfully_ clear – but he seemed to have no _idea_ of it and… and it was beyond frustrating.

“It’s not something that just happens to you, Ash,” Michael said after a moment and his voice took on that quality that Aleisha adopted sometimes when she was trying to make the dark-haired boy understand something important. “It’s just who you _are_ and… and that’s _nothing_ to be ashamed of, Ashton.”

Calum wished _he_ could believe those words too… wished he felt the absolute conviction that Michael seemed to feel as he tried to comfort an increasingly distressed Ashton.

“I’ve never even kissed someone before,” Ashton muttered, the self-loathing evident in his tone again. Calum’s heart fluttered painfully in his chest. “Not really. Not properly, anyway. God, I’m such a _freak_.”

Ashton laughed like someone was clawing it from him. His tears rolled down his cheek and fell. Calum could feel them and he hated it, hated that this was tangible proof of how much Ashton was hurting and... and he wished the realisation was enough to calm the prickly defensiveness Calum could feel burning in his veins but… but it wasn’t… because Ashton had kept something from him – something _important_ that Calum was going through as well – and Calum could feel it unfurling darkly in his chest.

“No, you’re not, Ashton! You’re _not_!” Michael cried and he sounded distressed now as his hands fell to fist the duvet. “I… Why didn’t you ever say anything? To me _or_ Cal? I… _Why_?”

“Thought you’d judge me,” Ashton mumbled and his hands were trembling worse now. “Stupid, I know, but…” His voice trailed away and suddenly Calum couldn’t take it anymore because… because he _loved_ Ashton more than he could put into words – and Michael, damnit! _Always_ Michael! – and… and this cut Calum deep.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us…” The dark-haired boy’s voice was _shaking_ as he finally let his eyes slide open and Michael flinched away when his gaze settled on his face. Calum wondered distractedly what he looked like. “You kept it a secret? This _whole_ time?!”

Calum couldn’t understand why he was so _angry_ – as angry as his father maybe except… except that made Calum want to fucking _die_ – but… but maybe it was because he was doing the same thing too… because he was such a fucking hypocrite… only he was too weak to admit it.

Maybe he was so livid because both of his best friends deserved better than this.

“ _Calum_?” Ashton whispered, apparently appalled that he’d been caught out like this.

Calum sat up sharply, watching the horrified realisation sinking in on Michael and Ashton’s faces when they realised he hadn’t been asleep at _all_ during this conversation. He’d heard everything and the pain on his two best friends’ faces only added to the hot tears streaming relentlessly down Calum’s face.

“You don’t have to be a dick about it, Cal,” Michael said quietly but his eyes were wide with pain and Calum was shaking as he pushed himself away from them, back across the bed until they couldn’t touch him anymore.

“Oh yes, because _I’m_ the dick!” Calum retorted and he was kind of spitting his words now as his tears threatened to choke him. Mali had always told Calum it was a bad idea to bottle stuff up and now he could see why because his words were exploding out of him in a shout, and Calum was utterly powerless to stop them.

“Because it’s always _my_ fucking fault! It’s _my_ fault you got drunk and told me you fucking _loved_ me! It’s _my_ fault you wouldn’t talk to me for fucking weeks afterwards so I never got to tell you how _I_  fucking felt! It’s _my_ fault Ashton cut his fucking wrists to shreds because he hates himself and nothing we say will ever convince him that he’s _good_ enough!”

Calum drew in a deep heaving breath but he let his eyes fall shut for a moment in the horrified silence that followed.

Calum’s tears were still rolling white-hot down his cheeks and sometimes it felt like they were never going to _end_.

“It’s my fault,” the dark-haired boy whispered without inflection.

Calum fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading guys <3  
> Please let me know what you thought!


	35. Crashing Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“_ Michael _,” Graham pleaded but the sixteen year old barely heard him, his nails raking across the already-sore skin of his hands as he scrubbed at them. “Talk to me, mate._ Please _.”_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst angst angst.  
> I'm very sorry, wow.  
> Also, apologies that it took me a little while to update. Hopefully this isn't crap.

**_Talk to the wind, talk to the sky,_ **

**_Talk to the man with the reasons why,_ **

**_And let me know what you find._ **

_\- Come In With The Rain, Taylor Swift_

 

Michael had stopped crying by the time he reached his uncle’s house.

It didn’t make much difference though. His green eyes were still so blurry with tears that Michael could barely see the golden number seven on Graham’s door when he raised his hand shakily to knock. He was fighting not to cringe when his hand touched the wood because it was probably dirty and the thought was making the red-haired boy’s breath escape his aching chest in ragged gasps and –

Graham paled when he opened the door and caught sight of his nephew standing trembling there.

“Did she hurt you again? I knew I shouldn’t have let you go back there! I _knew_ it!” Graham looked panic-stricken as he cupped Michael’s face, tilting it gently so he could look for injuries that weren’t there. Michael flinched away from the contact, tears trickling anew as his skin prickled.

“Gray… _please_ …” the sixteen year old breathed, curling his hands into fists so that his nails bit into his palms. “I’m not –”

“I’m sorry,” Graham whispered, looking thoroughly ashamed that he hadn’t thought his actions through first. “Come inside, mate. Out of the cold.” Graham opened the door wider so Michael wouldn’t have to touch it and his nephew looked up at him gratefully as he passed, trying to keep the pain off his face as Graham turned the key in the lock behind them.

“What happened, Mike?” Graham whispered and his eyes were scared. Michael half-fell as he slumped down onto the stairs so that he could remove his boots. His shoulders were tense and Michael’s hands were trembling as he gave up on undoing the laces, shuddering when a little dirt smeared on his fingertips from where he’d been walking outside.

Graham crouched down in front of him to undo the boots and Michael let out a tiny relieved sigh, letting his head fall back to rest on the stairs behind him as another tear rolled down his cheek.

“It’s not _me_ …” Michael shook his head, letting his eyes slide shut as his red hair stuck up messily around his pale face. “It’s –”

But Michael remembered the exchange in his bedroom as Ashton sat frozen and Calum utterly lost it, and Michael suddenly had to focus all of his attention on not letting anymore heaving sobs escape him.

“Mikey,” Graham said and his voice was tight. “What is it? Mate, you’re… you’re scaring me.”

"I'm sorry," Michael whispered because he never  _ever_ wanted to do that. “It’s… it’s Cal.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Graham whispered but it must have been pretty obvious that Michael _did_ or else why would he have turned up there in the night?

“I just… I didn’t know who else to –”

“Mate, it’s okay,” Graham promised, his voice soft and calm. Michael’s anger flared inside him as his hands began to itch and his: “ _No, it fucking isn’t_!” was several octaves too high as he stumbled down the hallway into the kitchen, turning the hot tap on full blast.

Michael shoved his hands under the stream, hissing a bit at the water as his face creased. Michael tried not to flinch when he reached for the soap but he could feel some of the sorer edges inside him soothing slightly as the hot water burnt his skin.

“ _Michael_ ,” Graham pleaded but the sixteen year old barely heard him, his nails raking across the already-sore skin of his hands as he scrubbed at them. “Talk to me, mate. _Please_.”

“I love Calum.”

It came out like ground glass, made Michael flinch harder than the burning water did as one of the cuts on the back of his hand reopened. Graham was silent behind him but Michael could see his uncle reflected back at him in the dark window behind the sink, a shadow whose expression was hidden in the night.

“I _love_ him and he can’t even look at me anymore.”

“Michael,” Graham breathed and he sounded floored.

The red-haired boy knew it probably wasn’t a shock to his uncle. Michael had told Graham years ago that he thought he was bisexual so it was probably only a matter of time but… but he’d never for the life of him thought he might fall for _Calum_.

“When did you realise you...?” Graham began to ask quietly and his voice was so soothing that Michael relaxed a little, didn’t snap when Graham turned on the cold water too so that Michael wasn’t scalding his hands anymore.

“Ages ago,” Michael whispered, keeping his voice soft so it wouldn’t shake like it wanted to. “We went to a party, Gray… and then I kissed him and he… he kissed me _back_ and… and I said it. I just fucking said it and he… he ran and… and nothing’s been the same since."

“Mate, I’m so sorry,” Graham murmured and one of his hands came to settle lightly on Michael’s shoulder. The sixteen year old was still tense, still trembling with how tightly he was wound up, but he didn’t twist away and Graham counted that as a win. “What happened tonight, Mikey?”

“I… I don’t even _know_ , Gray,” Michael breathed but his voice was soft in the kitchen now and Graham turned the tap off with shaky hands. There was blood welling up in the cracks between Michael's fingers.

“Me and Ash and… and Cal… we went back to mine and we were just… we were just playing Fifa, Gray. Just talking.” A tear rolled down Michael’s cheek and he looked faintly disgusted with himself as he balled his hands into fists, trying not to hold himself up by clinging to the edge of the sink because then he’d just have to wash his hands all over again and they were _stinging_ now.

“But then Cal fell asleep and Ash was talking to me about… about how he thinks he might… might like guys…”

Graham made a small noise of surprise and Michael hung his head, biting his full bottom lip hard as his breath escaped him in a painful little gasp.

“I tried to make him feel better but… but Calum got really angry. I don’t think he was sleeping at all, Gray. I think he heard _everything_ I said and… and he exploded.”

Graham was tense now while, in comparison, Michael was limp against him. He was so utterly exhausted that all of the fight had drained out of him, leaving nothing behind but a desire to go to sleep for a long, _long_ time.

“He was so upset,” Michael whispered and the tears were falling more steadily now but he felt half asleep as he stood hunched there over the cooling water. His hands stung painfully. “He… he said he never got the chance to say how _he_ felt, Gray, but… I don’t know what he means…”

The nurse was silent for a long time as he thought everything over and the red-haired boy gave a tiny sob as he slumped back against Graham’s chest.

His uncle held him steady, keeping the red-haired boy standing even when everything in Michael was screaming at him to fall down.

Graham had always been like that though.

“What can I do to help you, mate?” the older man asked gently, his messy greyish-brown hair more golden in the kitchen. His eyes were tired but _so_ kind. Michael felt numb.

“I ran out of elastic bands a few weeks ago,” Michael mumbled as he twisted to face his uncle but his words were slightly slurred now as his weariness threatened to overcome him. He felt _shell-shocked_ almost, drunk without the pleasant buzz that came with it.

Michael felt like he was about to burn out, felt like he was just _seconds_ away from crashing down, right there on Graham’s kitchen floor.

Graham gave Michael the weakest smile the red-haired boy had ever seen but he gave Michael’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as his nephew let his forehead fall to rest hesitantly in the curve of Graham’s neck.

“I’m here,” his uncle whispered, his hands rubbing gentle circles into Michael’s back as the sixteen year old fought to control his breathing. “I’m right here, Mikey. I’m not going anywhere.”

Michael thought of his father briefly when he looked at his uncle’s face, remembered Daryl’s whimpering apology in the car on the night Karen had hurt her son. He remembered how _pathetic_ his father was and Michael’s eyes swam with bitter tears as he remembered spitting out a bloody: “ _Go to hell_.”

Michael’s eyes slid shut of their own accord and it was only Graham quickly settling his nephew down in a chair at the kitchen table that prevented Michael from passing out on the floor as the sheer desperation inside him threatened to crush him.

“It’s okay, mate,” Graham whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Michael’s head as he continued to rub his back calmingly. “It’s all going to be okay. Hold on, mate. Just wait and see.”

Michael wished he believed his uncle.

He wished he never had to _leave_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought <3


	36. Out Of Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum was losing control too because this was a slippery slope and the sand was drifting out from beneath his feet, sending him tumbling down into the darkness._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually can't stop listening to Melanie Martinez at the moment and these lyrics seemed pretty (read: painfully) accurate. The whole song to be honest.  
> God, this fic is painfully angsty.  
> Hope you guys will like it.

**_I feel it coming out my throat._ **

**_Guess I better wash my mouth out with soap._ **

**_God, I wish I never spoke._ **

**_Now I gotta wash my mouth out with soap._ **

_\- Soap, Melanie Martinez_

 

It was a month later and Calum _still_ couldn’t believe he’d lost control like that. The days following that awful night at Michael’s had been unsettled and strained – even _despite_ the apologetic text message Calum had sent Ashton – but the tension was much worse now because all Calum could think of were Michael’s rough words.

‘ _If I fell in love with Calum, I can fall out of it just as easily. I don’t care anymore._ ’

Calum’s breath clawed its way out of his throat like a frightened animal when he let himself dwell on those words too much though because it was already painfully obvious that his parents didn’t care… that… that maybe _Mali_ didn’t because she’d gone… and if Michael looked at Calum and the flame had gone out in his eyes then… then the dark-haired boy didn’t know how he’d _cope_ anymore –

Not that this actually counted as coping probably but Calum could pretend. That felt like all he did anymore.

He desperately wished that he hadn’t so freely admitted to Aleisha how he felt about Michael too because she brought it up sometimes now, said pointed things with her soft eyes fixed on Calum’s face as her friend Ashley gave him knowing looks, and it made everything feel more **real** somehow, like having the words out there meant that things were changing… out of control.

Calum was losing control too because this was a slippery slope and the sand was drifting out from beneath his feet, sending him tumbling down into the darkness.

Calum’s fear kept him from making himself sick so much these days too, although the fact that he was barely eating anything definitely helped. Sometimes Calum couldn’t help it though. The tiniest amount of food sat like lead in his stomach and he couldn’t _not_ purge… even though there was blood sometimes… even though he was scared that he was pushing himself too far…

Even then.

Calum was scared. There was no other way to put it anymore. He was fucking _terrified_ because everything was falling apart around him and no one else could see it.

He’d never felt more like Nina from Black Swan than he did now, isolated and hollow and fucking _lost_ as everything he’d ever known turned to smoke in his trembling hands.

Calum could feel his fear in the pit of his stomach, growing inside him and making him feel fatter than ever. That scared him too because feeling this way for months on end fucking _hurt_ and… and he felt like maybe he needed something more to help him release the pain… only he didn’t know what that might be.

Calum felt lost up in his head, lost in the fog numbing his brain as he stumbled along whiling away the days, like some twisted monster from Silent Hill almost, warped and fucked up, wasting air until the moment everything went dark and it disappeared into oblivion.

Calum still felt vacant when he dragged himself out of bed and into school on Monday morning for a football training session first thing.

Calum was so exhausted and dizzy that it took him a long moment to remember that he was the team captain which was why everyone was watching him expectantly in the early morning drizzle.

The practice session passed in a damp blur of numb fingers and flawed passes that only just got the job done. Calum was flagging and it was painfully obvious. He was only grateful that the coach hadn’t followed them out onto the pitch because then there might have been awkward questions which was just about the _last_ thing Calum wanted.

The sixteen year old was incredibly relieved when he got to blow the whistle, signalling the end of practice. Calum had loved football so much once and it made him sad that it wasn’t the same anymore because, sure, maybe the dark-haired boy _did_ still love it but the sport somewhat lost its shine when he was more focused on staying upright than he was on training his team.

Calum felt sicker than usual as he followed his team unenthusiastically towards the changing rooms and it took him probably _too_ long to realise that it was because he hadn’t eaten anything that day… and possibly the day before too…

Calum shook his head to clear it and it kind of shocked him to discover that he was already in the changing rooms, stretching the hem of his winter jumper down over his hips as his sweatpants hung on him.

Michael had followed them into the changing rooms and he was currently sitting on one of the benches nearby, one knee drawn up to his chest with his foot planted firmly on the bench as he distracted Ashton from getting changed.

Calum was trying to get his school clothes back on as quickly and as subtly as he could because he didn’t want anyone to notice how fat he’d got. He barely managed a tight smile when Michael passed him his bag and phone back because he was so tense but the red-haired boy watched him with eyes that were sad enough that Calum was suddenly afraid Michael knew what he was worrying about…

Maybe _Michael_ thought Calum was fat too…

Maybe he saw how imperfect he was.

“Thank you, Mikey,” Ashton said as he took his stuff back from Michael too. It was never a good idea to leave anything in the changing rooms that you actually wanted to maintain ownership of so they were lucky to have Michael.

The red-haired boy was frowning at the moment though and Calum watched him curiously, waiting until Ashton was watching their best friend too before he quickly changed out of his sweatpants into his school trousers.

“What is it?” Ashton asked quietly and Michael shrugged, letting his foot slide back down to join the other on the floor.

“Your phone kept going off, Ash!” There wasn’t _quite_ a muscle in Michael’s jaw jumping but he still looked agitated enough that the constant beeping must have pissed him off a lot.

“What, with texts? Or calls?” Ashton looked frantic and it worried Calum before he remembered that Ashton must have been worrying about looking after his siblings again, like he must have had to do before when Anne was… well…

The air seemed to seep out of Ashton then and the light in his eyes flickered, and Calum saw how hard the realisation that Harry and Lauren didn’t need him for the same things anymore hit home. The knowledge that this was hurting the older boy made Calum’s heart ache in his chest.

“Texts,” Michael said hesitantly but his emerald green eyes were sad as they flickered from Ashton to Calum and the football captain knew Michael was worried too. “From some guy called Luke.” The dark-haired boy looked up in surprise just in time to see the blush colouring Ashton’s cheeks. “Who is he? I haven’t heard you mention him before.”

“Is that who you’ve been texting all the time recently?” Calum asked curiously. Ashton’s honey-coloured curls were a mess around his head from where he’d wrestled his way out of his sweatshirt but he shivered like he was cold when he processed Calum’s question.

Calum saw what could _almost_ be described as guilt colouring the older boy’s face and he wished it wasn’t there. Calum and Michael could hardly have been much fun to be around recently, and it was only fair that Ashton had someone to talk to who made him happy.

Whoever he was, Calum was glad Ashton had Luke.

“He’s my next door neighbour,” Ashton explained and he looked so earnest that Michael took the opportunity to make a stupid joke, teasing that Ashton was leaving them in a silly singsong voice that made Calum crack a smile for a moment before he remembered what had happened between them and had to look away, chocolate brown eyes too bright in his tired face as he fought against the suddenly overwhelming urge to cry.

Michael and Ashton were still talking but Calum wasn’t listening anymore, biting down hard on his full bottom lip as he hurriedly changed out of his jumper and into his school shirt before anyone else could look at him.

Calum only became aware of the conversation going on around him when Michael suddenly asked Ashton: “So… Are you and Luke…?” His voice trailed away but his expression became suggestive and Calum watched Ashton with interest despite himself.

“No!” The curly-haired boy’s cheeks flushed so red that he looked like he was burning up. “No. _No_.” Ashton exhaled shakily and he looked _small_ as he wrapped his arms around himself in a tight hug. “He has a girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Calum breathed, blinking hard because the lump in his throat was growing harder to swallow past at the look on Ashton’s face. He looked like he wanted to _cry_.

So did Calum.

“Well…” The dark-haired boy’s voice trailed away awkwardly when Michael and Ashton looked up at him. “At least you’re still going out and seeing other people then,” Calum said at last. “That’s good.”

Ashton gave Calum a small, watery smile and the football captain hoped he’d stay safe… that this mysterious _Luke_ wouldn’t break his heart without realising.

Ashton deserved better than that.

(But, _fuck_ , so did Michael.)

The red-haired boy happened to glance at the time as Calum pulled his school jumper on over his shirt and Michael cursed when he realised he was late for his next class.

The older boy disappeared in a whirl of colour – like a fiery tornado or something capable of wreaking equal devastation – but Ashton lingered, waiting idly for Calum as the younger boy laced his shoes up with trembling fingers.

Ashton’s pretty hazel gaze was heavy as it settled on Calum and the dark-haired boy looked up at him warily, fighting to keep the sadness from saturating his eyes.

Calum was scared for Ashton, scared that Ashton and Luke would end up feeling like Calum and Michael did… or Calum at least because, quite frankly, he wasn’t sure _how_ Michael felt anymore.

Calum was afraid and – by the looks of things – so was Ashton.

“Are you okay, Cal?” the smaller boy asked quietly, standing up from the bench when Calum rose on unsteady legs. “Like, _really_?”

Calum’s lips twitched into a faint smile but it wasn’t particularly pleasant.

“I will be,” Calum promised, giving Ashton’s shoulder a weak squeeze before he pushed past him, heading out beneath the vast grey sky stretching overhead.

Calum had always been a good liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3
> 
> Also in other news I got a 5SOS-related tattoo the other day and I'm so happy with it ahhh <3


	37. The Light In His Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Ashton had asked them round to his grandparents’ house to meet Luke and maybe play a few songs but… it felt weird. Too_ unnatural _almost, like maybe this meant a lot more to Ashton than he was letting on._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was weird writing this one from Calum's PoV but I hope I did it justice.  
> Fingers crossed you'll enjoy!

**_This world, this world is cold,_ **

**_But you don't, you don't have to go._ **

**_You're feeling sad, you're feeling lonely,_ **

**_And no one seems to care._ **

**_Your mother's gone and your father hits you._ **

**_This pain you cannot bear._ **

_\- Hold On, Good Charlotte_

 

By the time May rolled around, it was almost winter. The skies seemed perpetually streaked with clouds and the wind was brisk, and Calum felt freezing no matter how many layers he wore to hide how fat he was. It was horrible.

Aleisha and Ashley were good distractions though. Calum spent almost every evening out with them now, whether they were drinking or just sitting and talking about life. He’d accepted a cigarette from Aleisha the week before and it had ended in him choking hoarsely for almost a minute and a half but he’d tried a few times since then and he kind of wanted another one now because the burn of the smoke in his throat was a distraction from the pain everywhere else.

Hanging out with the girls made him feel better about Mali seemingly being too busy to call him… about his parents being worse than ever… about the unexplained bruise on Joy’s face and David’s sore knuckles as he stalked out of the house.

Calum’s foot kept tap-tap-tapping on the ground. He felt more restless than he’d ever done before, felt like he needed to be out and walking – or _running_ – because when he sat down for too long, he could literally feel his clothes tightening around him from where he was getting so fat.

 _God_ , Calum was getting fat.

“– you listening?” Michael’s voice filtered through Calum’s thoughts and he jerked his head up in surprise, mumbling an apology. They were walking down the road together without arguing which was unusual in itself but today especially was strange.

Ashton had asked them round to his grandparents’ house to meet Luke and maybe play a few songs but… it felt weird. Too _unnatural_ almost, like maybe this meant a lot more to Ashton than he was letting on.

“I hope Luke is a nice guy,” Calum said as they walked. It was a Saturday morning and the clouds overhead were a dark grey, threatening raindrops that would inevitably soak Calum through before he made it home. His bass guitar hung heavy on his back and Calum wasn’t sure how he felt at the prospect of playing it again.

It had been so long since Calum had let himself play and even longer since he’d tried his hand at song writing again because those things made him **feel** too much and that was something Calum tried (and often failed) to avoid at all costs.

“I’m worried Ash is falling for him,” Michael said darkly and it took Calum a moment to recall that they’d been talking about this mysterious _Luke_ who they’d barely heard anything about. All Calum had picked up on was that Luke was richer than them, went to Kings which was the same school Aleisha and Ashley went to, and could apparently play the guitar and sing very well.

To put it simply, Calum was curious. (He was also defensive on Ashton’s behalf but, judging by the scowl already painting itself across Michael’s face, Calum was going to have to take the ‘good cop’ approach.)

Ashton’s grandparents’ house was looming up ahead, set far back from the road with a long, sweeping driveway and a gnarled oak tree growing beside it. Ashton had texted them to say that he and Luke would be waiting in the third garage along, where his drum kit had been set up.

Calum shot Michael a sideways glance but, for once, the nervous energy crackling between them had little to do with their own problems and _everything_ to do with their best friend who may or may not have been in the process of shooting himself in the foot.

“Reckon he’s already in there?” Michael muttered as the pair of them started down the driveway. Michael’s guitar was slung over his back too but he was scowling so much. His eyebrow piercing reflected the grey light and Calum tried not to stare at his lips.

“Maybe,” Calum said but he sounded breathless. They were outside the garage now and Michael seemed to be bracing himself, like the stranger inside with their best friend was going to hurtle out and crash straight into him or something.

“Here goes,” Michael said unhelpfully, burying his hands in his pockets so that knocking on the door was left to Calum. The dark-haired boy raised his trembling fist – he hoped it was only shaking because he was cold but he wasn’t really sure anymore because all he ever seemed to _do_ was shiver in Michael’s presence – and gave a low knock on the door.

The soft murmuring he could hear inside stopped at once and Calum swallowed, stepping away from the door awkwardly, only to feel his cheeks flaming when Ashton called out: “It’s open!”

Calum pushed the door open and was immediately greeted with four walls absolutely _plastered_ with band posters. It was actually pretty cool and Calum saw Michael’s approving expression before he looked back at the two figures in the room.

Calum saw Ashton first. The older boy was wearing a navy blue knitted cardigan over a Blink-182 t-shirt and ripped skinny jeans. His messy, honey-coloured curls had been tied back from his forehead with a black bandana and his hazel eyes were anxious but hopeful behind new black-framed glasses.

Calum’s dark eyes flickered to the stranger in the garage.

 **Luke**.

He didn’t look much like Calum had been expecting.

He was tall – even taller than _Calum_ was and that was saying something – with sweeping blond hair that he’d styled into a quiff. His legs went on for miles, covered with black skinny jeans worn beneath an All Time Low jumper. He had a lip-ring too which Calum actually thought was pretty cool.

Luke’s eyes burnt with nervous blue fire but they were soft when he glanced towards Ashton and Calum’s heart gave a funny little jerk in his chest because… because Michael had looked at Calum that way once.

There was something strange about Luke because, looking at him, Calum got the weird feeling that the stranger was almost _familiar_ which was odd because he knew they’d never met before. It was strange though. Looking at Luke’s mannerisms and slightly forced smirk to mask the hurt in his eyes, Calum was reminded of _Aleisha_ although he couldn’t really put his finger on why.

Michael moved in front of Calum as he entered the garage, in a movement that was part protective and part belligerent by the jut of Michael’s chin, although to who Calum couldn’t say.

Luke looked startled when he found Michael’s intense gaze settled on his face and Calum couldn’t blame him. Michael had been good at staring contests as a kid and, if he really focused, he could stop himself from blinking too much. It reminded Calum of messing around in the playground as a kid but _Luke_ didn’t know that and he looked distinctly unnerved as he stared back.

It was just about the worst thing he could have done.

The silence stretched on and on and, finally, Calum had had enough. There was enough tension and strain in every other aspect of his life right now. He didn’t need this to be ruined too.

“Oh great,” Calum muttered dryly, keen to break the tension. “They’re eye-fucking.”

Michael and Luke glowered as they tore their gazes away from each other but Ashton’s lips twitched into a tiny nervous smile which was more than Calum had dared hope for.

Michael glared at Luke, like there was something about the taller blond boy that he absolutely couldn’t _stand_ , and Calum watched Ashton with silent dismay as the light in his eyes went out.

“Um…. This is Luke… Luke Hemmings, guys,” Ashton said but his face was falling and it made Calum feel terrible that they’d put him in this situation. Ashton was _wonderful_ and he deserved protecting. “Um… Luke, this is Michael… Michael Clifford… and… and that’s Calum Hood.”

Michael laughed unpleasantly and Luke gave a derisive snort. Calum just rolled his eyes at them but Ashton was biting his bottom lip hard like he was fighting not to cry. After a moment, the older boy simply seemed to give up. Ashton turned and stalked back towards his drum-kit, leaving his three best friends behind (and judging by the softness in Ashton’s eyes when he looked at Luke, the younger boy couldn’t have been anything _else_ ).

After an even longer moment of awkwardness, Michael finally decided to take pity on Ashton.

“Like what you’ve done with the place, Ash,” the red-haired boy said. “It looks pretty cool. I mean, it’s really lacking Metallica but you can’t have everything I guess.”

Ashton’s face lit up so much at that little piece of praise and it made Calum feel even more awful because, if that one tiny comment was enough to make their best friend happy, they should be taking better care of him. Not making things even _harder_.

Ashton was still smiling faintly though and Calum let that comfort him for now. The curly-haired boy looked content behind his drum kit and Luke gave a little sigh, dropping down hesitantly into one of three fold-up chairs as he picked up what must have been his guitar from where it had been resting carefully against the wall.

“Sorry I haven’t had you two round here before,” Ashton blurted suddenly and Calum shrugged, giving Ashton a half-smile although he didn’t really understand it. He could see why he and Michael hadn’t been asked back much before – namely, Anne – but this time around? Calum had no clue.

Maybe he’d been worried about them seeing Luke. That was the only thing Calum could think of.

“We gonna play some music then?” Calum asked awkwardly, swinging his bass down from his back and unzipping the case. Beside him, Michael did the same with his guitar.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

It was still uncomfortably quiet in the garage but Ashton broke the silence to beat out a rhythm, so focused that he didn’t even realise that the skin on his hand – sore from the cold winds – had split open.

“Your knuckle’s bleeding, Ash. This weather making your hands sore?” Luke’s voice was soft as he rose, crossing the garage to kneel beside the smaller boy. Luke dug a tissue out of his pocket and dabbed at the blood, wiping it so carefully that Calum could tell how gentle he was trying to be. Luke looked _soft_ and Ashton seemed to feel very safe with him.

He still hissed a bit when the gentle dabbing must have hurt though and his soft: “Ouch” made Michael look up sharply, emerald green eyes flashing like forest fire.

“You’re hurting him,” Michael said, speaking in a fierce little voice that Calum had only heard a few times on those occasions at primary school when people had tried to pick on Calum or Ashton because they were quiet and Michael had shown the bullies just why that was a bad idea.

“What?” Luke asked, looking up at Michael with wide blue eyes when he saw that the red-haired boy had risen swiftly. “I didn’t – God, I was getting the fucking _blood_ up!” Luke’s voice rose to a shout and Ashton flinched away. Michael’s angry eyes were blazing and Calum just sort of sat there, taking it all in silently because his heart was pounding too hard in his chest and he didn’t think he could speak without his voice shaking.

“Don’t fucking hurt Ashton!” Michael shouted and Calum _knew_ the red-haired boy’s words had a double meaning. Luke was shaking with anger but his eyes widened when Michael flew at him, pinning him against the wall in an action that Calum had been on the wrong end of once, when he’d managed to offend his father by speaking without thinking.

Calum shuddered, chocolate brown eyes wide and teary as he bit his full bottom lip hard. He didn’t know what Michael was fucking _thinking_ except… except that they had to make sure Ashton was safe, no matter the cost.

“Ashton doesn’t deserve to be hurt by you,” Michael said and his voice was quieter now, his grip looser on Luke’s collar. Calum knew Michael was right. “He’s been hurt enough.”

Ashton was almost crying now, the mortification clear on his face, and Calum would have pulled him into a hug if he hadn’t been shaking so badly he didn’t trust himself to stand up.

“I know he has,” Luke spat, anger clear on his face. His blue eyes were like _ice_ now. “I _know_.”

Calum wondered if Luke knew more than them. Ashton really must trust him.

Michael slumped, all of the fight seeping out of him like air from a balloon, and Luke shoved the red-haired boy away so hard that he stumbled. Calum reached out to steady him without thinking, his hand wrapping gently around Michael’s bicep before he’d had time to process what was happening. Michael leant into the touch for just a second – warm and comforting and _safe_ – before he tore himself away like he’d just realised what he’d done. Calum felt himself pale.

He felt even _worse_ when he looked up and saw Ashton sitting with his head in his hands. His shoulders were shaking with silent tears and his breathing was ragged, like he was trying his hardest not to let his strangled sobs choke their way out of him.

Calum’s anger was cold in his chest.

“You’ve both upset Ash,” he said in a low voice. Michael and Luke looked up, first at Calum and then to Ashton. The guilt was evident on their faces and a tiny, vicious part of Calum was _pleased_ because they deserved it for making Ashton cry.

The curly-haired boy’s face stayed hidden stubbornly behind his hands but Calum could tell he was listening and that was why he shot the other two boys a stern look which, thankfully, they correctly interpreted as: “You two better start getting along. _Now_.”

Michael grabbed Luke by the shoulder – _again_ the blond boy just let himself be led, eyes dim and faintly wary – but their words could be heard loud and clear where Calum was sitting.

“If you hurt him, I’ll fucking –”

Luke cut Michael off and Calum was glad of it.

“I won’t hurt him! I care about him!”

Calum looked up just in time to see Michael watching Luke with a calculating expression on his unusually flushed face. After what felt like an age, Michael gave Luke a tiny nod.

“I hate you, Hemmings,” Michael said in an offensively loud voice, glancing over to make sure Ashton was listening. “You’ve got stupid hair.”

Luke gave a little snort, like he was about to start laughing. Fighting for control, the blond boy continued in the same vein.

“I hate you too, Clifford,” Luke said with a deep sigh. His eyes were faintly brighter now and Calum let himself relax back into his seat, trying not to wince when the plastic rubbed his coccyx uncomfortably. “Your hair’s way stupider. Do you think you’re fucking _Gerard Way_ or something?! Bastard.”

Michael almost laughed too and Calum found himself surprised that the red-haired boy hadn’t made a joke about actually _wanting_ to have sex with the lead singer of My Chemical Romance.

Calum was pretty sure Michael wouldn’t have said no but that was probably not a thought for right now.

He was just grateful that Michael and Luke had stopped fighting for long enough to make Ashton happy.

“Great, now we can all be friends,” Calum muttered as he picked his bass up from where he’d set it down on one of the spare chairs nearby. “Fucking _idiots_ ,” Calum said as he began to tune it.

Ashton looked up like he was hardly daring to hope, taking in Luke’s slight amusement and Michael’s tiny smile as the pair alternated between glaring at each other, trying hard not to smile, and giving Ashton hopeful looks, like they were puppies that just wanted to be praised.

“I _told_ you,” Calum said hotly when he saw what the two of them were doing. “ _Fucking idiots_.”

Calum still felt like shit and it was fucking freezing in the garage but Michael smiled at him, and Ashton was giving Luke wide doe eyes, and Calum’s bass felt good in his lap – a comforting reassuring weight that reminded him of just how much he’d missed it – and maybe this _didn’t_ have to be such a bad thing after all.

Calum wanted it to work.

He wanted Ashton to be _happy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you! :)  
> Also, if my updates take a little bit longer from now on it's because I'm starting a new job on Monday so everything is kind of hectic!  
> Anyway, yes, thank you for reading and please let me know what you thought :)


	38. More Than Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“I’m sorry, mum,” he whispered but he felt so sick now and his mouth tasted horrible, burning and bloody and disgusting. Calum didn’t know how much more of this pain he could_ take _._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually found this incredibly cathartic to write.  
> I'm sorry it took so long though. Things are fucking hard and my head's a fucking mess but I don't want to stop updating.  
> I hope this is okay <3

**_It probably won’t get easier,_ **

**_Just easier to hide._ **

**_Prepare for an aching the rest of your life._ **

_\- Looking Like You Just Woke Up, The Front Bottoms_

 

There was blood again.

Calum could see it burned into his mind’s eye as the sound of the chain dragged him from his thoughts. Calum felt numb but the anxiety was still fluttering in his hollow stomach like butterflies with razor-sharp wings battering against his insides.

He left the bathroom on shaking legs but the trembling only got worse when he made it out onto the landing because he could hear his parents arguing downstairs, unusually loudly considering they presumably didn’t want the neighbours to overhear.

Calum’s sweatshirt must have got stretched somehow because it was slipping down his shoulder, making goosebumps crawl up the tanned skin of his arms as he shivered, wrapping his arms tightly around himself and digging his fingertips into the fat.

David’s voice rose downstairs and Calum flinched, squeezing his eyes tightly shut when he heard glass shattering, fingers biting into his ribs. He could hear Joy crying and Calum stood there frozen for a moment, immobile as the pain in his throat and stomach heightened when his anxiety threatened to overwhelm him.

He knew there was nothing he could do though and, when he heard footsteps approaching in the hallway, the spell was broken and Calum fled, running into his bedroom and pushing the door shut firmly behind him as his breath escaped him in a ragged gasp.

He heard Joy’s voice downstairs, broken and distressed, and a tear rolled down Calum’s cheek.

“I’m sorry, mum,” he whispered but he felt so sick now and his mouth tasted horrible, burning and bloody and disgusting. Calum didn’t know how much more of this pain he could _take_.

He sank down onto the floor, back pressed against the white painted wood of the door as he dropped his head into his hands. His mobile phone began to vibrate in his pocket and Calum wrenched it free, tears blurring his eyes as he saw an incoming call from Mali pop up on the screen.

There was a photo too, her pulling Calum into a too-tight hug and ruffling his dark curls as he pretended to scowl at her. It made the lump in Calum’s throat threaten to choke him and he threw his phone from him, figuring that ignoring it was maybe the only thing giving him enough strength to keep from breaking down into sobs right now.

A distraction. Calum _needed_ a distraction.

His eyes settled on his bass guitar where it was still resting against his wardrobe in its case from that day in the garage with Ashton and, fighting against the shudders still tearing through him, Calum stumbled towards it. He sat down heavily on his bed and, desperately fighting against everything inside him that was _screaming_ that he didn’t deserve to feel okay again, Calum let himself play.

He played chords until his fingers stopped shaking, until the pounding of his heart slowed enough that his pulse stopped roaring quite so deafeningly in his ears.

There was a picture frame on Calum’s desk with a black and white photo of him and Mali in it. They were sitting together in front of the Christmas tree in their living room. A smiling Calum’s arms were wrapped around Mali’s shoulders and she was throwing her head back with laughter.

They looked so young and it made a lump rise in the dark-haired boy’s throat when he saw it.

He was so glad Mali had got out before everything had had the chance to burn down around her.

 _So_ fucking glad.

He could never be thankful enough.

Calum could still hear his parents fighting downstairs but Mali’s face was all he could see; soft cheeks and long dark hair and the chocolate brown eyes she shared with Calum, sad and desperate in her gentle tanned face as she ran away before their parents could tear her down like they had her little brother.

His head felt clearer now but he was still thinking about Mali and… and because of that… Calum did something he hadn’t done for a long, _long_ time.

He started to write a song again.

Calum only managed one verse, just a few lyrics jotted down on a torn-out sheet of paper from one of his school notebooks lying nearby that he couldn’t get out of his head.

 

**_All the battles, all the wars, all the times that you’ve fought._ ******

**_She’s the scar, she’s the bruises, she’s the pain that you brought._ ******

**_There was life, there was love_ ******

**_Like a light and it’s fading out._ ******

 

His writing was messy - barely legible to be quite honest - but reading the words made something loosen inside Calum’s chest, a dark tightness he hadn’t even realised was _there_ fading away into little more than smoke.

Calum’s parents were still fighting but he found it easier to ignore now and, when his phone began to ring with another call from Mali about an hour later, Calum set his bass guitar down down and answered the phone.

It hurt to hear her voice again after so long and Calum drew his legs up to his chest as he sat back on his bed, squeezing his knees tightly as he pressed the phone to his ear.

The scribbled words on the paper were blurring with tears but Mali’s voice was soft and comforting in his ear, and it made Calum feel lighter almost.

Like maybe he wasn’t lost.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3
> 
> Also if anyone wanted to see the picture of Calum and Mali I described in this update - it’s one of my favourites - then you can see it here: http://40.media.tumblr.com/87df3df49625be19312a29d66158769a/tumblr_mm1lotx5xj1rguji0o2_500.jpg


	39. Whisper A Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Michael knew he’d never seen the girl in the doorway before but Calum_ froze _, his hand suddenly clamping down painfully tightly on Michael’s shoulder, fingertips biting into the muscle as his breath tore out of him in a ragged gasp. It reminded Michael of Karen for just a moment and he shuddered, biting his full-bottom lip hard as he took in the inexplicable shock flitting across Calum’s face._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!  
> I had most of this written but then I had a car crash so I had to put it on hold but yes, hopefully you'll like this!  
> Hope it's okay <3

**_No one looks up anymore,_ **

**_'Cause you might get a raindrop in your eye,_ **

**_And Heaven forbid they see you cry._ **

_\- March To The Sea, Twenty One Pilots_

 

Michael felt washed-out.

His hands were reddened and sore from too much washing, and his heart was pounding unevenly in his chest. He’d got home late on Friday night after an evening out with a couple of guys he knew through gaming and, despite not actually being stupid enough to admit it to his mother this time, she’d still known _something_ was up, talons biting into the muscle of his arm as she gave him a silent warning look that threatened something painful if he stepped out of line again.

Michael wondered when everything had gone to hell around him because he couldn’t remember a turning point. It just felt like he’d woken up one morning, looked back behind him, and seen a road with cracked tarmac and flames licking up at the sky as the ground crumbled away beneath his feet.

Michael wondered how he’d missed it.

The school car park was mostly empty as the red-haired boy leant against the wall, feet crossed at the ankle as he stared out vacantly at the empty grey sky with his earphones in.

“ _Summer has come and passed. The innocent can never last. Wake me up when September ends._ ”

Michael had always loved Green Day, the way they were so unashamedly **them**. It was something he’d always tried to follow himself but it was hard these days with Karen breathing icily down his neck, fingers wrapped like manacles around Michael and Daryl’s wrists.

“ _Like my father’s come to pass. Seven years has gone so fast. Wake me up when September ends._ ”

A light drizzle was beginning to fall and Michael let out a low sigh - inaudible to him beneath the music - as he let his head fall back gently to rest against the rough brick wall. He was knackered - absolutely _exhausted_ really - and there was the beginnings of a headache pounding behind his tired eyes as he suppressed a yawn.

Michael really needed more than four hours sleep but it was _hard_ when everything in him was screaming - when his skin was itching, when Ashton was hurting somewhere, when Calum _needed_ him - and sometimes staying up playing video games until he passed out was the only way he could switch off for long enough to get some rest.

God, Michael felt drained.

“ _Here comes the rain again, falling from the stars. Drenched in my pain again. Becoming who we are._ "

Calum appeared at the school gates as Michael mouthed along to the words silently. The red-haired boy paused to scowl at Charlie Barker who glared at him as he stalked past. The ex-football player hated Michael even more these days, ever since Calum had kicked him off the team to be honest, but there’d always been _something_ there… this bubbling hatred that festered like sulphur in Charlie’s fiery eyes.

“ _As my memory rests, but never forgets what I lost. Wake me up when September ends._ ”

Michael paused his music when Calum finally reached him, biting his lip anxiously as he wrapped his earphones around his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. Calum was grey-faced in the early morning light, the circles under his eyes looking like bruises as he twisted his vaguely trembling hands in front of him. It made panic flare in Michael’s chest – hot and choking – but the older boy fought not to worry about it because he couldn’t – _wouldn’t_ – let Calum make him feel so much now.

Not when he already felt like he was falling apart at the seams.

Calum was watching him, pain clear on his face as his lips parted, drifting closer like he was about to whisper a secret to Michael.

“Why don’t we –”

Calum faltered when Ashton turned up but the thoughts were pushed from Michael’s mind when he saw how much the curly-haired boy was hurting. His large hands were shaking worse than Calum’s and his hazel eyes were damp with tears. He was clearly upset. Ashton winced like moving his arms was hurting him and it panicked Michael, made him rake his fingers through his hair anxiously as he fought not to let his worry show on his face.

Ashton was stubborn and he refused to tell them what was wrong, and it took Michael almost shaking him – and accidentally panicking the smaller boy which made Calum glare disapprovingly – for Michael to discover the cause of the pain in Ashton’s hazel eyes.

“Was it Hemmings?” Calum asked gently and Michael stiffened, a frown creasing his brow as he watched a betrayed Ashton glaring weakly at Calum. The venomous look drew a small, hurt sound from Calum and the dark-haired boy’s pain made Michael’s heart hurt although for the most part he was just growing angry. He could feel it boiling up inside him now because how _dare_ Luke do something to hurt Ashton?!

“What the _fuck_ did he do to you?” Michael snapped, fighting to sound calm but failing terribly if the panic rapidly blooming on Ashton’s frightened face was any indication. The smaller boy flinched away like he was scared Michael was going to hurt him and the realisation cut Michael to the core, that he could paint those expressions on Ashton’s face after what his own mother had done to him.

Michael’s hands itched worse than ever and he scratched at his palm, nails catching and leaving sore marks across his pale skin.

“ _Nothing_! He… we just…” Ashton looked like he was going to fall down and the helplessness of his expression made tears swim in Calum’s eyes as he grabbed him, cuddling Ashton close when the older boy’s knees weakened. Michael was torn as he looked at Ashton over Calum’s shoulder because the curly-haired boy seemed to be on the brink of a panic attack now.

In the end, Michael couldn’t bring himself to ask what had happened because Ashton looked agonised and Calum’s stance was defensive as he stood between them, arms still wrapped around the smaller boy. Michael didn’t think they’d ever forgive him if he pushed this.

He didn’t think he’d forgive _himself_.

Ashton had always been good at surprising Michael though and he proved that again by answering now.

“He kissed me.”

Michael had read in books that a red mist descended and, while he wasn’t suddenly seeing everything in varying crimson hues, his blood boiled in his veins as his hands curled into fists because… because Luke had _promised_ that he wouldn’t hurt Ashton. He’d fucking _promised_ but, looking at the raw pain on Ashton’s face now, Luke had lied.

Michael was livid, angry in the extreme as Calum cradled a whimpering Ashton gently to his chest, stroking his curls and pressing chaste kisses to his forehead as he attempted to calm him.

Michael possibly ruined this when he decided to declare that he was going to _kill_ Luke but, in that moment, he actually wasn’t joking. Ashton was as good as a brother to him and anyone who hurt him was _not_ okay with Michael.

The red-haired boy stayed angry all day, practically vibrating with a furious energy that put his two best friends on edge when they were forced to sit beside him in class. Ashton’s apparent relief when the bell rang to signify the end of the day was short-lived when Michael – and a slightly worried-looking Calum – hitched a ride home with Ashton so that they could pay Luke a visit.

Michael had a huge number of ideas about how this could go – including dramatic film references, destroying his garden, or maybe simply kneeing the taller boy between the legs – but, in the end, it went about as well as could be expected.

Luke opened the door with his girlfriend’s lipstick smeared on his mouth and Michael punched him in the face.

Now Michael was usually a pretty good fighter. He formed a good fist, was surprisingly flexible, and he definitely knew how to hit where it hurt – whether that was words or punches depended on the occasion – but Michael’s anger made him impulsive.

He threw his fist out so thoughtlessly that he didn’t form it properly and the crunching sound of Michael’s thumb and at least one other bone breaking was loud in the silence that followed. There was a moment where everyone completely froze and, suddenly, Michael had to fight not to be sick because _fuck_ , it hurt so, _so_ bad.

In contrast, Luke didn’t look particularly effected. His blue eyes were glassy and his nose was bleeding sluggishly as Ashton let out a shaky little sob from beside them but Michael was on the point of sinking down onto his knees now. Calum grabbed his shoulder to steady him and, instead of pushing Calum away like Michael knew he probably _should_ do, the red-haired boy let himself sink back into the comforting touch instead.

“What the fuck was that for?” Luke’s words sounded scripted almost, like he didn’t believe them in the slightest, and that only made Michael’s anger flash brighter because maybe he was just messing Ashton around or something and that was never, _ever_ okay.

“You need to fucking leave Ashton alone, you stupid, self-important bastard!” Michael spat but his head was swimming and he kind of wanted to cry at the burning pain shooting through his hand now. Michael forced his emotions back though, swallowing them down past the lump rising in his throat as his eyes burnt with livid tears.

Michael opened his mouth to say something that probably would have been unforgiveable but, fortunately for Luke’s feelings, Ashton got there first.

“It doesn’t matter, Michael.” His voice sounded hollow and shaky as a tear rolled down his cheek, and Michael _hated_ the self-loathing he could see on Ashton’s face because he _should_ have been hating Luke, damnit! Not _himself_. “It doesn’t mean anything. Lu- _Hemmings_ has made that pretty clear.”

Ashton was shaking like a leaf in Calum’s grip, clinging to the dark-haired boy like standing this close to Luke was making him feel faint.

“Well done,” Calum breathed, giving Ashton a one-armed cuddle. Michael’s head was starting to swim with how badly he hurt but he fought against it, leaning back into Calum’s grip where the younger boy’s hand was still settled on his shoulder.

“Lukey?” The voice came from inside the house and Michael jerked his dizzy head up. It was a girl speaking with long sandy-coloured hair and sharp eyes. She must have been Luke’s girlfriend. “What’s going on?”

Michael knew he’d never seen the girl in the doorway before but Calum _froze_ , his hand suddenly clamping down painfully tightly on Michael’s shoulder, fingertips biting into the muscle as his breath tore out of him in a ragged gasp. It reminded Michael of Karen for just a moment and he shuddered, biting his full-bottom lip hard as he took in the inexplicable shock flitting across Calum’s face.

The girl was staring at Calum too, wide eyes stunned for just a second before her gaze settled on Luke and she wrapped her arm shakily around him, like maybe he was the only thing keeping her standing upright. Michael couldn’t understand why she’d gone so _pale_.

“You’re bleeding,” the younger girl said steadily and, although her concerned eyes were fixed on Luke, they kept flickering over to Calum’s face so quickly that Michael wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it. “Clearly it’s _something_ \- and what were they talking about? Why do you need to leave Ashton alone? Who’s _Ashton_?”

Luke looked vaguely like he was trying not to cry now, his pale bleeding face twisting as he struggled to keep his sobs in. Calum was still staring at the girl – Aleisha, Michael thought her name was – with a shock that bordered on betrayed and Ashton was trembling, clearly panicky as his large shaking hand fisted in the back of Calum’s school jumper.

Agony flared suddenly on Luke’s face as his deep blue eyes settled on Ashton and it stunned Michael because the pain looked so real that the red-haired boy might have been able to _forgive_ him except… except then the blond boy ruined everything with three words.

“He’s no one.”

Ashton’s sobs tore out of him so violently that Aleisha took half a step backwards as her hand fell away from Luke’s waist, like her worst fears were being realised. Calum closed his eyes – dazed and swimming with tears – as he turned his back on the door, cradling the curly-haired boy to his chest.

Michael’s skin was crawling.

Aleisha shut the door on them, hiding Luke’s ashen face and her own discomfort from view, and Michael was shaking as he pulled Ashton into a hug too, his hand settling on Calum’s shoulder where the younger boy was still holding their best friend. Michael murmured apologies, pressed another kiss to Ashton’s forehead and tried not to notice how Calum was gazing at him but it was so _hard_.

Ashton’s breath shuddered out of him and the absolute pain saturating his face made Michael want to set Luke’s house on fire but… but he’d done enough today. He’d behaved just as impulsively and stupidly as his mother kept telling him. It was painfully clear that Michael was unable to take care of the people he loved and… and his hand felt like it was broken and his mother had threatened him that morning and Luke’s blood was smeared on Michael’s fist and it was making him feel sick because the red-haired boy felt like he was _just_ as bad as Karen was.

“Mikey? Are you listening?” Ashton’s voice was soft and weak, the tears still rolling down his flushed cheeks although he seemed tired now, calmer. “Let me drive you to the hospital. Your hand’s all screwed up.”

“I know. I can _feel_ it.” Michael followed the pair of them back to Ashton’s car, sliding wordlessly into the back seat and sinking down into it as he let his eyes slide shut. They jerked open with shock when Calum sat down hesitantly beside him though and, when a still tearful Ashton pulled back out onto the main road, the dark-haired boy’s tanned hand found Michael’s knee.

“You’re going to be alright, Mikey,” Calum breathed, too softly for Ashton to hear. “It will be fine. I promise.”

Michael wondered what part Calum was talking about but he didn’t comment. All he managed to do was dredge up the faintest smile, felt it flicker on his face for just a moment before the pain inside stamped it out, extinguishing it and leaving nothing but a tiny curl of smoke behind.

Michael was desperately trying to hold his tears in and he managed it too, right up until Ashton and Calum left the Emergency Department when Graham finally showed up after his shift following a text message from his nephew.

Michael had been as strong as he could all evening, holding his sobs in valiantly as Calum and Ashton sat on either side of him, occasionally making a comment or disappearing to find the toilet while countless game shows played on a little television screen in the corner of the waiting room.

When his best friends were gone and Graham arrived to take him home, Michael’s tears began to fall relentlessly.

It didn’t matter though.

Everyone else had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought! :)  
> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> There's a Thing soon and I'm very excited to write it...


	40. Burnt Like Napalm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum didn’t feel angry. He didn’t feel_ anything _almost… just exhaustion and more pain than he knew what to do with as he remained lying there limply, fighting for a control that he had no hope of reaching._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really fucking horrible to be honest... y'know, if the chapter title didn't already give that away.  
> Basically it's angsty as fuck.  
> Sorry about that.

**_Bought a ticket for a runaway train,_ **

**_Like a madman laughing at the rain._ **

**_Little out of touch, little insane._ **

**_It's just easier than dealing with the pain._ **

_\- Runaway Train, Soul Asylum_

 

Calum felt awful as the hours following the stand-off in Luke’s garden trickled away and, by the next day, he felt worse than ever.

All Calum could see when he closed his eyes were the tears streaming relentlessly down Ashton’s cheeks as his sobs racked through him. Calum couldn’t forget the pain burning in Michael’s beautiful eyes or the momentary agony flickering on Luke’s face as the door slammed shut but… but, most of all, Calum couldn’t forget _Aleisha_.

The newfound knowledge burnt like napalm, blistering and corrosive and absolutely _impossible_ to forget.

Calum had never felt like he needed a release more than he did in that moment and he kept remembering what Ashton had said on the phone about cutting. Calum was fighting not to think about it though because… because if he _did_ let his thoughts wander then Calum was afraid of what would happen.

Michael’s broken hand was in a plaster cast now and Calum’s dark eyes flickered to it as he forced himself to focus. The pair of them had gone to stay at Ashton’s, camping down in the garage where their best friend kept his drum-kit with duvets and pillows they’d dragged down from the house.

Calum’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he ignored it. He didn’t even need to check it now – he _knew_ it would be Aleisha just like Calum knew he would ignore the calls from his friend until he had any idea at _all_ of what he could possibly respond with.

Calum was _hurting_ and he felt offended even though Aleisha couldn’t have known that, after all these months, they’d been talking about the same people. Hell, _Calum_ couldn’t have known.

That didn’t make it any easier though.

Calum hated himself more than ever today. It had started when he’d woken up and checked his Facebook because Mali had posted pictures of her with a mysterious guy who must have been the _Harry_ who Calum had heard so much about. He had long, wavy brown hair and wide green eyes, and Calum wanted to wish that they didn’t look so happy together but… but he couldn't do that to his sister.

Calum missed Mali so much it _burnt_.

“Scoot over, Cal,” Ashton murmured as he climbed up onto the big sofa bed beside his best friend. Michael was fiddling with his iPod where it sat on the dock and Calum’s cheeks reddened as he hurriedly moved over, embarrassed that he’d been taking up too much room. He felt so uncomfortable at the prospect of staying overnight with the pair of them and Calum was kind of freaking out about it, scared to share a bed because they might feel how fat he was if they were all lying pressed together like that.

He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to be so close to Michael either but, before Calum could _really_ stumble too far down the path of no return, he saw the sadness lingering on Ashton’s face and let it distract him, even as Calum hated himself worse than ever because he had found a silver lining in his best friend’s _pain_.

Michael snuggled down on the other side of the curly-haired boy, hugging him close when he saw how upset Ashton looked. Watching the pair of them lying tangled together as Michael pulled Ashton into a cuddle left Calum feeling very alone though and the lump rising in his throat hurt to breathe past.

Michael was gently prompting the older boy to speak and Ashton’s voice was soft when he finally did, mumbling about how messed up he was like _Ashton_ was the only one of them who was screwed up. Calum’s tears were bitter but he kept his face angled away as he interrupted the older boy, fighting _so_ hard to keep his tone gentle and light in an effort to keep Ashton happy. Calum was rambling, making promises he probably couldn’t keep about how – no matter what – the pair of them would always be there for Ashton.

Calum wished it didn’t feel like a lie but maybe the worst part was that he didn’t even _want_ to break his promise. Calum just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that they might be able to support Ashton in any way at all when they couldn’t even take care of _themselves_.

Calum’s pain must have shown on his face because Michael looked increasingly unhappy as he listened, like the words were hitting home and hurting him worse than his broken bones maybe… except Michael still _cared_ because the palm of his good hand was warm when he dropped it to give Calum’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. The touch was soft and it forced the dark-haired boy to bite back a sob as Calum tucked his face away, hiding his anguish in Ashton’s shoulder as he clung to the smaller boy.

Ashton stiffened, his breathing quickening like he was growing anxious, and Michael’s tone became slightly frantic as he tried his hardest to distract Ashton by listing his _own_ issues. The pain never entirely faded from Ashton’s eyes though and Calum had a feeling he was thinking about Luke.

“I can’t stand small spaces,” the red-haired boy offered in an effort to make Ashton feel less alone as Michael settled down more comfortably onto his back, one arm still wrapped casually around Ashton’s shoulders as he let his sore hand fall to rest on the bedspread. Calum’s eyes burnt. “I’ve been known to faint at the sight of blood – _so_ punk rock, I know… I once cried because I found a spider in the bath… and if you ever tell _anyone_ I said that, I’ll probably have to beat you up.”

Ashton sniggered but Calum’s jaw was set as he watched Michael’s mouth fall open for a second, working silently like he wanted to say something more but didn’t know how. Looking at the faint distraction colouring his face as his good hand curled into a loose fist, Calum had the strangest feeling that Michael was keeping something from them.

Before he could dwell on it too much though, Michael promptly ruined everything by speaking again.

“What about you, Cal? Are you a little fucked up too?”

Calum froze, his cold hands fisting in the soft material of Ashton’s pyjama shirt as his breath punched out of him in a gasp.

It felt like everything was flashing before his eyes as his mind raced too fast for him to process his spiky thoughts properly – his parents self-destructing, Mali running away, Ashton crumbling to dust through his fingers, feeling like **Nina** as everything tore him apart, a stunned whisper of: ‘ _I love you_ ’, the burning in his throat, the scrape on his hand left by his teeth, the ‘diet’ that was gas to a flame, the guilt he could still feel eating away at him for betraying Violet, secrets shared with Ashley and Aleisha, _Aleisha with **Luke**_ , wanting to cut, the blood swirling in his sick, the bruise around Joy’s eye, the soreness of David’s knuckles, Calum’s anxiety searing everything like someone wielding a flamethrower, his depression slowly suffocating him, the wish for death that lingered on the edges of Calum’s consciousness that was growing so pronounced that he almost couldn’t _ignore_ it anymore and… and **loving** Michael.

“Well…” The word felt insignificant beneath the crushing weight of Calum’s emotions, roaring inside him like a force of nature as he fought to keep his face impassive enough that Michael and Ashton couldn’t work out what he was thinking.

Calum tried hard to loosen his fingertips from where they were probably digging into Ashton as he held the older boy between them like a shield. Calum’s voice was shaking and he squeezed his dark brown eyes shut so tightly that he saw stars bursting inside his lids as he swallowed past his tears.

“My head’s not always the nicest place to be in,” Calum said at last.

He refused to speak again after that, releasing Ashton stiffly and turning his back on the pair of them as he curled up into a ball, hiding his face so that they wouldn’t see the tears swimming in his eyes as he bit the inside of his cheek hard in an effort to stay silent. Calum’s stomach was knotting painfully as his nausea churned inside him and, more than anything in that moment, Calum wanted to find somewhere dark and quiet, sink down onto his knees and claw the inside of his throat bloody until he was empty again, until the pain of that distracted him from the _agony_ of everything else.

Calum almost couldn’t breathe with how difficult it was to hide his tears now and all of his efforts may as well have been for nothing when Ashton reached out timidly to take his hand because it made the tears boil over in the younger boy’s dark eyes.

Dimly, Calum became aware that there was music playing softly in the silence but he still couldn’t bring himself to speak. Everything hurt so bad and his head felt like it was _spinning_ almost, not in the way it did when he hadn’t eaten for days but like the air he was drawing in raggedly didn’t contain any oxygen… like he was locked in a car with the exhaust fumes slowly filling the tiny space and he didn’t know which way was up anymore as he slowly became numb.

It was the worst feeling in the world almost.

Calum craved it.

Ashton’s mobile phone ringing later on was the next time Calum surfaced, dark eyes blinking open glassily as he heard the angry murmur of a curse word when Michael saw that it was Luke calling Ashton.

Calum didn’t feel angry. He didn’t feel _anything_ almost… just exhaustion and more pain than he knew what to do with as he remained lying there limply, fighting for a control that he had no hope of reaching.

Luke sounded calm at first, his voice shaky but steady as he apologised but, in a show of unusual stubbornness, Ashton refused to immediately forgive him. Luke’s shaky breaths could be heard over the phone line and it took Calum a moment to release that Luke was sobbing… took him less time to realise that Luke sounded like he was hurting almost as much as _Calum_ was.

Ashton forgave Luke in seconds after that and even _Michael_ gruffly agreed, his eyes suspiciously wet when the younger boy chanced a fleeting glance over his shoulder to look at his best friends.

Calum felt like he should kind of have expected the phone call and the forgiveness that followed because the raw _agony_ that had saturated Luke’s face when he acted like he didn’t know Ashton had looked _painfully_ real and… and this was such a fucking _mess_ because all Calum could think of now was the night when Aleisha had told him that she thought ‘blondie’ was gay, that she maybe he wasn’t happy and that she _wanted_ him to be… and that Ashton and Luke had kissed behind Aleisha’s back. They’d kissed and Calum knew and he still hadn’t told Aleisha.

Calum’s boiling tears felt more selfish than ever as he raised his hand shakily, biting at the soreness on his knuckle as the shame heated his cheeks with blood and threatened to choke him.

Ashton was whispering to Luke now, sitting further away from them with his arm wrapped around his knees, the phone no longer on speaker. Calum’s head felt like it was full of cotton wool but Luke must still have been crying down the phone because there were tears running down Ashton’s cheeks again now. He was sitting up straighter too though, like maybe he felt _stronger_ knowing that Luke wanted him.

Calum felt _awful_ now because he wanted to be happy for them but he couldn’t. He just _couldn’t_ when it felt like betrayal, like stabbing a knife into his friend’s back… He couldn't escape the knowledge that this all felt like it was going to end badly, that maybe Ashton and Luke _couldn’t_ just be friends… that the kiss wasn’t a one-off and -

Calum felt like he was choking when he pushed himself up shakily, muttering something about getting fresh air as he half- _ran_ for the door.

It was cold outside, freezing almost as he stood there shivering with his arms wrapped tightly around himself, nails digging into the skin. He wished he had one of Aleisha’s cigarettes although he couldn’t smoke one without feeling like he was coughing up a lung and –

God, _Aleisha._

In that moment it didn’t matter to Calum that he’d known Ashton his whole life – that he loved him like a _brother_ – because this felt like too much. How could Calum even _consider_ keeping this secret from someone who he was beginning to care about so much?

The night was inky black around him and Calum’s sobs shuddered out of him silently as his teeth sank into his bottom lip, drawing blood, and Ashton and Michael might have ended up forgiving Luke but all Calum could think of was Aleisha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed you guys didn't hate this.  
> The first Thing is happening pretty soon.  
> Please let me know what you thought by leaving comments and kudos!  
> Thanks for you reading <3


	41. Severed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Michael spun on his heel, storming out of the kitchen and stalking down the hallway before Karen could do much more than glare at his retreating back._  
>  _“Don’t turn your back on me!”_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the Thing!!!  
> There's going be more Things eventually obviously... but I'm apparently really sadistic and mean because I'm really excited to hear what you guys think of this one.  
> Enjoy! (I hope...)

**_Hold me down, hold me down._ **

**_Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown._ **

**_Knock me out, knock me out._ **

_\- Hold Me Down, Halsey_

 

Michael kept forgetting about the three broken bones in his hand and flexing his fingers. He did it whenever his hands felt unclean which was a _lot_ at the moment and the action sent red-hot pain burning through his hand. It was Ashton’s birthday soon and Michael had been certain his hand would have healed by then but apparently not. Even with the plaster cast on – a bright pink to annoy his mother – Michael couldn’t believe how badly it still _hurt_.

He’d been better at throwing punches once but maybe the part that made him feel most guilty was that he shouldn’t even have _hit_ Luke.

After the blond boy’s apology on the phone that night in the garage, Michael could scarcely believe the cocky rich Kings student and the crying boy begging Ashton for one more chance were the same person.

That hurt to think about but at least it distracted him from Calum.

God, everything was a fucking _mess_ and Michael’s thoughts felt like a tangled snarl of barbed wire as he walked into the kitchen. His parents were at the table finishing their dinner but Michael didn’t look up as he opened the fridge, searching in vain for something tidy he could eat upstairs in his room.

Nothing really appealed though and Michael was just weighing up the pros and cons of defrosting something from the freezer when he felt Karen’s eyes settle heavily on him.

“I rang the school today, Michael,” she said calmly and Michael bristled, his good hand clenching into a fist as he shut the fridge door just a little too hard. He kept his back to her, fighting to control his expression, but Karen didn’t let that stop her. “They told me that you _didn’t_ injure yourself in a PE lesson.”

Michael bit his tongue to keep from swearing and his jaw was set as he twisted to face his parents.

“You were checking up on me?” Michael asked after a long moment, when he could trust himself to speak again. “Why?”

“For good reason apparently,” Karen snapped, fierce eyes flashing as she watched her son disdainfully. “I can’t _believe_ you’d lie to me! Have you been fighting _again_?!”

“You act like I fight all the time!” Michael retorted, firing up at once as Daryl sank a little lower in his seat. Michael’s heart was pounding in his chest and his red hair licked at his furious face like flames as his broken hand spiked with pain. “I don’t have to listen to this.”

Michael spun on his heel, storming out of the kitchen and stalking down the hallway before Karen could do much more than glare at his retreating back.

“Don’t turn your back on me!” Karen shouted and she was in the hallway behind him now, eyes burning and arms reaching for him as he tried to run for the stairs.

His mother grabbed him as he climbed and Michael lost his footing, falling down so hard that he bruised his chin and bit his tongue so that his mouth was swimming with blood. His ribs jarred painfully when he caught them on the edge of the stairs and Michael’s breath escaped him in a ragged, pained gasp when his broken hand slammed into the wall when he reached out blindly to save himself.

Daryl’s weak, alarmed voice filtered faintly over to them but Michael barely heard it because Karen was vicious now, like once she’d started hurting her son she just couldn’t stop, and the punches might not have been that bad on their own but Michael could scarcely breathe with how badly his ribs were hurting and his head was throbbing painfully, and everything felt far away from him in that moment. Disconnected.

 _Severed_.

Michael’s cheek was pressed to the polished wood of the stairs and the blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth as his broken hand seared with a pain that burnt _almost_ as brightly as the one in his ribs but the sixteen year old barely felt it.

He could see himself in his mind’s eye, back when he was a little kid without a care in the world. He’d had golden hair and wide green eyes and loving parents who’d actually been _proud_ of him for being who he was and… and the bittersweet agony made Michael’s breath catch more painfully than his aching ribs could ever manage.

For just a moment, Michael lost himself in the ebb and flow of the memories, in the pain of it as they washed over him like a tide and threatened to pull him under. He lost himself in Daryl’s cries and Karen’s snarls as her fists hit his shoulders and her nails bit into his back, and Michael wanted to close his eyes kind of, wanted to let them fall shut so that he didn’t have to see the hatred and disappointment etching her face anymore as she tried her hardest to cut him up into tiny little pieces.

‘ _Get out_ ,’ a tiny voice whispered and it sounded like Calum. ‘ _Get out now, Michael!_ ’

Michael’s emerald green eyes were glassy when he forced them open but it cleared his head a tiny bit. He got his good hand under him, flinching as his mother’s fists smacked against him but he wasn’t dazed from falling anymore. He was getting out now, while he still could. Before he lost the chance.

Michael pushed himself up so quickly that Karen staggered backwards a few steps and that was all it took.

Adrenaline burnt through him and Michael shoved her away from him, running for the door as fast as he could. He wasn’t wearing shoes and his coat was still hanging on the hook in the hallway but it didn’t matter to him in that moment. All Michael could think about was getting out.

He was wheezing almost with how painful it was to breathe and his head was pounding, and Michael took a vicious sort of satisfaction when he spat blood on the wall in the hallway as he escaped the house.

That was what it felt like too. Escaping.

The adrenaline had burnt out of his system after a few minutes but Michael was far enough away that Karen wouldn’t be able to find him now. It was dark and cold, and he was shivering as the last of the fight seeped out of him. It left Michael feeling small instead, trembling and vulnerable and _scared_.

He could feel his shock numbing him as he started towards Graham’s house, his breath still tearing out of him agonisingly as he felt something on his bruised chin. Michael reached to wipe it away but all he succeeded in doing was smearing blood across his grey, tear-streaked face.

His socks were wet from the pavement and Michael was shaking with pained anger. The skin on his hands and around his bloodied mouth was _crawling_ almost with how grimy it felt, his stomach heaving with the blood in his mouth, and he could feel the self-disgust saturating every single cell in his body.

By the time the red-haired boy staggered up to his uncle’s house and knocked on the door – and he didn’t worry about the germs in that moment because he was already so filthy that he wanted to douse himself in fucking  _bleach_ – Michael was crying so hard he could barely see straight, let _alone_ breathe properly.

Graham’s stunned face drained of colour when he opened the door but his tone was unwavering as he enveloped his feverish nephew gently in his arms. Michael was almost hysterical now as he clung to his uncle, fisting the material of his shirt tightly in his hand and leaving bloody fingerprints behind on the fabric as his sobs ripped painfully out of him.

“You’re never going back there, Mike,” Graham swore as the tears in his eyes boiled over. “Not ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3  
> And remember, like, in a weird way it's actually a good thing this happened because Michael could totally never have been okay living at home with his parents so... so you shouldn't hate me _too_ much... maybe...  
>  Um... yeeeeah... I'm really sorry.


	42. White Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“You’re gonna be alright, mate,” Graham said seriously but Michael could see in his eyes that he was still upset and he couldn’t very well blame him. So was Michael._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys will like this chapter.  
> It kind of feels a bit filler but this needed to be explained before I could continue so I hope you guys will like it.

**_When you're weary, feeling small;_ **

**_When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all._ **

**_I'm on your side._ **

_\- Bridge Over Troubled Water, Simon & Garfunkel_

 

Graham had always been good at calming Michael down and this time was no exception.

The sixteen year old’s crying had slowed when he finally stumbled into the shower and he flinched when the hot water pounded against his bruised skin, stinging the scratch marks Karen had left on his back. Michael’s eyes were still burning with tears but he knew Graham was waiting for him in the spare bedroom with clean pyjamas and painkillers so Michael focused on that.

His red hair looked darker with the water when he climbed out of the shower, fingers trembling faintly as he wrapped a navy blue towel around himself. He’d covered his plaster cast with a plastic bag which he gratefully tore away now, pleased to be free of it.

The bathroom mirror had fogged up a little but Michael cleared it with the corner of the towel, taking in his pale face - blotchy from too much crying and flushed from the hot water in the shower. The bruising on Michael’s chin was mostly obscured beneath his stubble too which was a good thing; it meant it would be easier to hide it.

Michael was exhausted now that the adrenaline had left his system, absolutely _drained_. He’d cleaned his teeth four times since getting there but, if he thought too hard about it, he could still taste blood in his mouth, imagined he could still feel it welling up on his sore tongue from where his teeth had sank into it. His ribs ached when he moved.

Michael needed to put his pyjamas on and that meant leaving the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom and venturing into the room where his uncle was waiting for him. That meant _talking_ about what had just happened and… and Michael wasn’t sure he could stand the thought of that.

It was almost like Graham _knew_ though because there was a low knock at the bathroom door. Michael cringed away at first before silently berating himself because he felt fucking _pathetic_ now. The red-haired boy gritted his teeth and pulled the door open, trying not to wince when the door handle touched his skin.

Graham’s eyes were soft with concern and love as he passed his nephew some folded pyjamas.

“You left these here last time you stayed over,” the nurse said quietly, watching carefully as Michael’s good hand closed into an unwilling fist at the prospect of touching something else. “They were washed recently,” Graham promised, hesitating before he gave Michael’s damp shoulder a comforting squeeze. The red-haired boy leant into it, his eyes sliding shut for a moment. “It’s okay, Mikey,” Graham said softly and the red-haired boy swallowed past the lump in his throat, managing a jerky nod as he took the clothes and waited for his uncle to leave before struggling into them one-handed.

Graham was waiting for him in the spare bedroom again, sitting on the edge of the bed, his tired eyes taking in the quiet street outside as the stars glimmered faintly in the darkness. The lamp was on, bathing the room in a warm glow, and the white bedspread smelt clean and inviting.

Graham patted the space next to him and Michael sat down heavily, leaving his towel draped over the back of the chair nearby before he sank down onto the sheets. The nails of Michael’s good hand were biting into his palm again and Graham watched him for a long moment before he reached out - slowly so as not to startle his nephew - and dropped an elastic band into his palm.

Michael’s fingers closed around it gratefully.

“You’re gonna be alright, mate,” Graham said seriously but Michael could see in his eyes that he was still upset and he couldn’t very well blame him. So was Michael.

“We… we need to talk about what happened,” the nurse said quietly, his voice unwilling but surprisingly firm. “And I think it would be a good idea if you let me check you over. I… I don’t know what… what happened but…”

“That’s fine,” Michael whispered, even though nothing had ever felt _less_ fine. “It… it just went too far.” Michael’s ribs ached when he inhaled shakily and the nurse’s brow creased. “I really don’t think mum meant to, Gray…” Michael’s voice trailed away and he frowned down at his broken hand. “At least… not at first.”

“What did she do to you?” Graham asked but his green eyes were gleaming with tears and his hands were shaking faintly. Michael swallowed past his revulsion, leaving the elastic band tangled between his fingers as he forced himself to reach out and take his uncle’s hand. Graham’s eyes widened and the soft, pained sound that escaped him made Michael’s eyes brim with tears.

“She got angry so I tried to run upstairs.” The red-haired boy shrugged half-heartedly but the movement pulled at his ribs and he bit back a shudder. “She… she just grabbed me but… but I was on the stairs so… so I fell...”

“And that’s how you hurt your ribs? And your face?” Graham swallowed audibly past the lump in his throat but he seemed to be a little calmer as he withdrew his hand carefully, gesturing towards Michael’s pyjama top. “Is it alright if I have a look?”

Michael tugged the top up clumsily, wincing a little at the movement, and the nurse’s fingertips were cool and careful as they brushed the bruising lightly. He was quiet for a long while as he looked but Graham looked more at ease when he straightened up afterwards.

“I don’t think they’re broken, mate. Just… just bruised,” the nurse murmured, helping Michael right his pyjama top before he moved to sit beside his nephew, back resting against the headboard of the bed. “I think it hurt to breathe because you were panicking so much. Not because they’re broken.”

Michael relaxed fractionally, felt a little of the pain dissipate like maybe some of it had been psychological, but he tensed up immediately at what Graham asked next.

“What about your back? The scratches and the bruises… Mike… those weren’t by mistake.”

“I know,” Michael whispered hopelessly, wanting to bury his face in his hands but unsure he could actually deal with it right now. “I don’t know why she did it,” Michael breathed, his voice weak as his pain glimmered in his tired eyes. “She just… she just started punching… scratching… and she wouldn’t _stop_ …”

Michael’s words became ragged as a sob escaped him without his permission and Graham looked even _more_ unhappy if that was possible. He raised Michael’s bruised chin gently with his fingertip, his eyes drifting over the bruising before they settled intently on his nephew’s face.

“We’re going to fix this, Mikey,” Graham promised but he looked faintly calmer now – still icily furious at his sister-in-law but relieved that Michael wasn’t injured as badly as he’d initially thought. His ribs were only bruised and none of his teeth seemed to have been knocked loose when he’d hit his chin.

Michael’s breath was still rasping out of him painfully though, like he couldn’t _quite_ contain his panic. His emerald green eyes were glassy with tears and Graham’s heart ached in his chest as he gently thumbed Michael’s slowly-rolling tears away with a soft look on his face.

Michael’s exhaustion seemed to overwhelm him and he slumped down against his uncle’s side, letting out a sad sigh as Graham pulled him carefully closer, cradling him like he’d done when Michael was just a baby as his nephew lay curled in his lap, his hands held safely close to his chest so that he wasn’t touching anything.

His pale face was vacant now, like his fatigue was washing over him and threatening to pull him under. Graham privately hoped it would. Looking at the bruise-like circles under his nephew’s eyes, Graham was fairly sure he wasn’t sleeping properly and it was making Michael look _ill_.

Graham just wanted him to be okay again.

Michael’s shower-damp hair smelt like coconut shampoo, and the laundry detergent scent still clinging to his pyjamas had a lingering smell of talcum powder. It made a lump rise in Graham’s throat as he rocked Michael gently but the sixteen year old’s breathing was slowing now as he lay cuddled against his uncle’s chest.

“It’s all going to be okay, Mikey,” Graham promised, his voice soft and soothing as he rubbed his nephew’s shoulder comfortingly. “You’re safe now. I’ll make sure you’re safe. _Always_. I promise.”

Michael let out a tiny, content sigh as he snuggled closer, rubbing his cheek against the soft material of Graham’s shirt like he’d done when he was a little kid as he bit distractedly at his full bottom lip. Graham freed it gently with his thumb, still rocking Michael because it seemed to be doing a good job of lulling him to sleep.

Graham dropped a kiss onto the top of his head, suppressing the pained sound that wanted to escape him when he looked at the bruises staining his nephew’s skin. Michael felt heavier in his arms now, a dead weight almost as his head lolled to the side.

Graham’s eyes were swimming with tears but Michael was a warm comforting weight against his chest, his eyes finally fluttering all the way shut as he slowly unclenched his fist, his fingers unfurling like a tiny white flower. The elastic band tumbled onto the bedspread.

When Graham looked again, Michael was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I love writing Graham so much.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this!  
> Please let me know what you thought by leaving comments and kudos <3
> 
> We're back to Calum next time...... and _Things_ are happening.
> 
> Also if you want to sob, look at this gif of Michael crying in the music video (the poor baby i love him) because this is exacTLY HOW I IMAGINED HIM IN THIS FIC FUCK:  
> http://merlypops.tumblr.com/post/135401204962


	43. Bedlam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“Are you alright?” Calum asked softly, wishing that the lack of awkwardness between them would remain except... except how_ could _it when Calum usually couldn’t even bring himself to look Michael in the face anymore?_  
>  _Michael’s smile didn’t touch his eyes as he answered with a caustic: “Terrible but let’s pretend.”_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today has been fucking awful so unfortunately I decided to take that out on Calum.  
> Sorry about that.  
> Fingers crossed this is alright idk.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Self harm.

**_I’m heavily broken,_ **

**_And I don’t know what to do._ **

**_Can’t you see that I’m choking,_ **

**_And I can’t even move?_ **

_\- Heavily Broken, The Veronicas_

 

Calum couldn’t cope anymore.

He had no release. No breath left in his lungs. No way out.

His hands were shaking as he brushed the shattered pieces of plastic aside, reaching for the razor blade lying innocently on the bathroom floor. He’d cracked it open, slicing into his thumb by mistake as he did so, and the burning pain of it shocked him.

Calum wondered why the blood welling up was bothering him so much. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to blood after all – his throat burnt with a phantom pain as his hollow stomach clenched sickeningly – and he was contemplating cutting _himself_ after all but… but it was unsettling him.

No one else was in the house but the dark-haired boy had locked the bathroom door anyway. Calum’s trembling fingers became steady as he brought the blade to his arm and his breath caught in his chest, making him exhale shakily as he ran the razor across his wrist, just firmly enough that it broke the skin.

Calum shuddered, hot and cold searing through him as his head fell back against the side of the bath. The blade clattered from his fingers to land on the tiles and the football captain stared down at his arm with wide eyes, watching as a bead of blood welled up before it ran down to collect in his palm. His heart was pounding in his chest, so fast that it felt like it was trying to escape the confines of his ribcage, like it was finally unconfined by the sempiternal anxiety wrapped like barbed wire around his lungs.

Calum’s phone was lying on the floor nearby and it vibrated with an incoming message. His chocolate brown eyes were faintly panicked as he wiped at the blood with a handful of toilet roll. It was sticking to his skin and Calum inhaled raggedly, biting his bottom lip hard to keep his tears in as he tried to process what the _hell_ he’d just fucking done.

His phone screen was still lit up and Calum looked at it unthinkingly, only to panic immediately afterwards when he saw the text from Ashton letting him know that he was leaving with Luke to come and pick him up now.

Calum swore, tidying the shards of plastic away and picking the razor blade up from the floor before staggering to his feet. He caught his elbow on the doorframe as he hurried back to his room to get ready but he barely felt the pain beneath the stinging of the cut on his arm.

Ashton was collecting Calum and Michael to take them to an Italian restaurant in town to celebrate the oldest boy’s birthday but, in that moment, Calum actually couldn’t think of anything _worse_.

He’d managed to get by on just an apple and a can of diet coke yesterday, and the thought of having to eat huge quantities of pizza or pasta now made Calum’s stomach clench horribly.

He didn’t have time to make himself sick now though. Judging by the older boy’s text, Ashton would be here within ten minutes.

Swearing again, Calum hid the razor blade in his desk drawer and struggled out of the faded t-shirt he’d been wearing, pointedly not looking down at the rolls of fat as he wriggled into an over-sized grey jumper. It hung down to mid-thigh and it covered his hands just about so Calum was reasonably confident that the cut on his arm would stay hidden and –

 _Fuck_ , Calum was already starting to wish that he hadn’t done it except… except there was something cold inside him, freezing and numbing some of the pain he could usually feel.

It was bedlam inside Calum’s head by the time he made it outside to wait for Ashton and Luke. He felt oddly detached from his roaring thoughts but it was a distinctly unpleasant sensation and Calum was grateful for the distraction when Michael turned the corner, walking stiffly towards him.

Calum wondered why Michael hadn’t come from his house but he figured maybe the red-haired boy had been spending the day with his uncle instead. It was sweet of Michael to come back though because it made it easier for Ashton as it meant he could collect them from the same place and not have to get anxious at the prospect of driving somewhere new.

The football captain’s head was spinning by the time Michael came to a stop next to him and, although Calum was worried that the tension between them was going to be awkward, it never happened.

Michael looked so exhausted and he was walking like it _hurt_ a little bit, and the relief on his face when he finally sank down to sit on the pavement spoke volumes. The red-haired boy offered his oldest best friend a weak smile and Calum bit his lip anxiously, feeling the worry gnawing in his stomach as the numbness in his head receded for a few blessed moments.

“Are you alright?” Calum asked softly, wishing that the lack of awkwardness between them would remain except... except how _could_ it when Calum usually couldn’t even bring himself to look Michael in the face anymore?

Michael’s smile didn’t touch his eyes as he answered with a caustic: “Terrible but let’s pretend.”

The worry that had been smouldering gently in Calum’s chest flared up like someone had doused it with petrol and he felt himself paling because… because Michael didn’t _say_ things like that.

The older boy _hated_ showing weakness and for him to let himself be vulnerable in front of Calum – _especially_ after everything that had happened between them – sent warning bells ringing in Calum’s head.

“Mikey?” the younger boy whispered but Michael’s tired green eyes were focused on an approaching car.

“Ash and Luke are here,” he said, rising swiftly, only to wince a little bit like the movement had hurt him. Michael made a low, pained noise when he got in the car and strapped his seatbelt on but something in his expression warned Calum from pursuing it as Ashton twisted in his seat to smile at them. Luke was sitting looking shy, apparently thinking about how the last time they’d spoken to him, he’d been crying down the phone and begging Ashton to forgive him.

Actually, now that Calum thought about it, there was a certain tension between Luke and Ashton as they sat in the front together. Calum wondered if it was because of their argument but there was something there that didn’t _quite_ add up and, when Michael suddenly looked between the two of them with rapidly widening eyes, he put the puzzle pieces together.

“You two fucked,” Michael blurted out and Calum jerked his head up in shock, suddenly identifying the strange tension that had been crackling between the two of them. There was a small bruise on Ashton’s neck that _might_ have been a hickey and… and Luke was gazing at Ashton with a softness in his eyes that Calum had only seen in Michael’s before when he was looking at _him_ and… and Calum was starting to feel _sick_ now.

There was something niggling in the back of his head too, a nagging fear that he couldn’t quite shake although it took him a moment to grasp exactly what was bothering him.

 **Aleisha**.

This was going to hurt _Aleisha_.

A lump rose in Calum’s throat and he turned away, staring blankly out of the window as Ashton drove them through town. The two boys in the front were suspiciously quiet. Michael’s exhausted voice was the only sound in the car.

“I thought you were both all upset because of that whole fucking stupid ‘ _accidental kissing_ ’ thing.” He sounded faintly stunned, confusion colouring his tone as he sank back into the seat with a small hiss of pain. When Calum looked up at him fearfully, Michael’s burnt out eyes met his for a moment. “What the fuck happened?”

Calum felt like maybe Michael’s question wasn’t just directed at Luke and Ashton anymore, and it made the dark-haired boy feel even _more_ sick. Calum could ask Michael the same question.

“We’re just friends,” Ashton tried hopelessly but his voice was soft and bordering on pained when Luke shot him a betrayed look, staring at Ashton like he was foolish for having made that comment.

Calum watched Luke curiously, trying – and probably failing – to figure the blond boy out. He didn’t understand Luke at all. He couldn’t even work out where he _started_.

Luke looked deceptively innocent as he sat there and Calum kind of wanted to hit him for cheating on Aleisha. She deserved better than that.

“Define friends,” Michael said and Calum’s dark eyes flickered to Ashton when the smaller boy bristled visibly. Calum’s nausea must have shown on his face but he couldn’t stop staring as Ashton watched him levelly back. A disappointed sigh escaped Calum before he could stop it – and it didn’t remind him of his parents, it _didn’t_ – and Ashton looked away, face heating with shame.

“– because _friends_ don’t do whatever the fuck _you two_ have been doing,” Michael continued hotly as Ashton sank down further in his seat. They’d pulled into the carpark now and Ashton’s face was so flushed that Calum was slightly concerned for him. The feeling evaporated when Michael spoke again. “– _especially_ when one of those friends is already in a relationship with a witch.”

Luke laughed nastily and Calum felt a flash of protective anger flaring up inside him.

In that moment, it didn’t even matter that Calum hadn’t spoken to her again yet because it didn’t _change_ anything. Calum still cared about Aleisha a lot and he knew she cared about him too. She didn’t deserve this.

“Oh, I’m sorry – I meant _bitch_ ,” Michael corrected himself, laughing that unpleasant little laugh that maybe a few people he didn’t get along with in school might be familiar with. Calum was suddenly reminded of all of the reasons why Michael wasn’t always the nicest person and he _hated_ it.

It made him feel cold inside.

“No, shit! Let’s try a complete and utter cow.” Michael’s smile was cold and his eyes stayed just as numb. Calum wondered again what had happened to him. “Yeah. That’s better.”

Ashton’s arms were folded on the steering wheel now and his face was buried in them. It looked like he was crying and a tiny, malicious part of Calum was _almost_ pleased because this wasn’t any more than they deserved.

Aleisha was going to be torn apart if – no, _when_ – she found out. She didn’t deserve to be the only one who suffered.

Calum felt sick with himself as this thought crossed his mind and it was all he could do not to get out of the car there and then. He wondered if Mali would be disappointed in him for growing so cold.

Calum wondered when he’d stopped caring.

“Don’t cry, Ash,” Luke breathed, his hand falling to settle gently on Ashton’s shoulder. Michael’s face twisted and he turned away, catching Calum’s gaze and looking momentarily stunned at the anger he could see burning in Calum’s eyes.

Luke and Ashton’s actions now were all the confirmation they needed that the pair were sleeping together behind Aleisha’s back.

Calum wanted to be _sick_.

“I fucking knew it,” Michael muttered but Calum couldn’t look at him.

He felt like he was going to _cry_ , like even simply knowing about Ashton and Luke was enough to make him feel guilt-ridden and sick with himself.

Luke made a pointed comment about talking later instead and, when Michael started to speak again, Calum finally snapped, forcing his voice into some semblance of calm as he cut across him.

“Mikey, just _leave_ them,” Calum said sharply but the tears he was suppressing thickened his voice and he simply sounded _weak_ instead. The cut on Calum’s arm was burning.

Michael stared at him wordlessly for a long moment before he got out of the car, shoulders hunched like he didn’t know where to turn anymore. Calum felt cold as he climbed out too but nobody spoke until Luke and Ashton were there, walking along behind them and holding hands like they thought Calum and Michael were too stupid to see.

Calum’s dread blanketed everything like a fog and it didn’t seem to matter that – despite all the odds – Ashton, Luke and Michael were actually getting _along_ now because he still couldn’t focus on them enough to join in the conversation properly.

The air in the restaurant smelt so strongly of food that Calum’s stomach began to churn unpleasantly. The cut flared dully with pain when Calum caught his arm sitting down and he lost himself in it for a moment, sank down into its depths and stared down unseeingly at the table top as his friends’ words washed over him.

When Calum broke the surface again, the other three actually seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Michael was apparently too drained to stay angry for long – Calum privately thought that the older boy hating Aleisha helped – and Luke and Ashton seemed cautiously optimistic as they joked around.

The evening passed in a painful blur for Calum and it ended with him crouching on the floor in the restaurant’s bathroom as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Again.

Ashton tried to get Calum to tell him what was wrong afterwards, even going as far as to lead Calum outside while Michael and Luke talked shit about something the dark-haired boy didn’t much care about anymore, but it didn’t make any difference.

Calum was still silently fuming with Ashton, and he was so distracted by the ache in his stomach and the sting of his arm that he managed to deflect the older boy’s concerns fairly easily, focusing instead on how that little patch of skin on the back of his hand had been scraped raw by his teeth when he stuck his fingers down his throat.

Calum felt dizzy and numb as they left the restaurant that night but that was the least of his worries.

The darkness he could feel unfurling in his chest made him feel _dead_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> Please let me know what you thought <3


	44. Into The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _Aleisha was still stroking his hair but she stopped when Calum let his head fall to rest in the crook of her neck and her arms wrapped around him securely instead. He couldn’t quite find it in himself to pull away from her warmth and there was a little voice in Calum’s head saying that, if they were_ normal _– and if Michael and Luke weren’t in the equation – then this was when they would kiss._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually found this so, so, so cathartic to write.  
> Calum, Aleisha and Ashley are my favourite group to write at the moment so I hope you'll enjoy reading them.  
> This update is so ridiculously long though so I'm sorry about that wow.  
> Fingers crossed you guys will like this!

**_We're so young but we're on the road to ruin._ **

**_We play dumb but we know exactly what we're doing._ **

**_We cry tears of mascara in the bathroom._ **

**_Honey, life is just a classroom._ **

_\- New Romantics, Taylor Swift_

 

Calum went to see Aleisha the next evening.

His heart was thrumming like a hummingbird in his chest and his brittle hands were trembling as he buried them deep in the pockets of his ripped skinny jeans. It was a cold evening with a brisk wind blowing in off the ocean, tousling Calum’s dark curls and cooling the anxious burning of his cheeks.

The light in Aleisha’s bedroom window was on but every other room in the house looked dark and Calum took comfort from that when he rang the doorbell before stepping away, biting his full bottom lip as he listened to someone coming downstairs inside.

Aleisha pulled the door open distractedly but Calum saw the moment she realised it was him because her fingers bit into the frame and she paled visibly.

“Cal?” Aleisha breathed and Calum’s chocolate brown eyes swam with tears.

“Hey, Leish,” he murmured.

Suddenly he was wrapped in her arms.

Aleisha was only wearing a vest and high-waisted shorts so she must have been cold standing in the doorway but that only made Calum hug her tighter. Her sandy-coloured hair still smelt like apples and smoke as she tucked her face away into the warm skin of his neck, and Calum sniffed hard in an effort to keep himself from crying.

“I missed you, dickhead,” Aleisha muttered, pulling away and wiping her eyes hard with the back of her hand before she cringed, apparently remembering that she was wearing mascara. Calum’s smile was soft and weak as he wiped the smudged makeup away with the pad of his thumb.

“I missed you too,” Calum breathed and he realised he was still cupping her cheek gently when Aleisha leant into the touch for a moment, her eyelids sliding shut. She looked younger when Calum couldn’t see how exhausted her eyes looked.

“Luke is blondie,” Calum whispered and the vague alarm in Aleisha’s eyes when they immediately fluttered open showed that she was just as perplexed and shocked by the previous events as Calum was. “I swear my heart almost stopped when you came to the door,” he breathed and Aleisha bit her lip, watching him with sad, tired eyes.

“I didn’t know you knew him,” she whispered.

“Neither did I,” Calum replied and there was the faintest hint of _guilt_ colouring her expression at what she said next.

“If I’d known, I never would have said all that stuff about him.” She sounded like she was trying to convince _herself_ and the poorly-disguised pain in her expression hurt to look at. “I wouldn’t have told you what I thought about him or – or –”

“Leish, it’s okay,” Calum promised but her hard eyes were swimming with tears and softer than Calum had even seen them before.

“Why was Ashton –”

“Please don’t,” Calum begged because if she asked this then there was no going back. “I… I want to keep out of it.” The dark-haired boy sounded regretful but his expression must have hinted at everything he couldn’t say because Aleisha looked taken aback as she gazed at him for a long, _long_ time. Her emotions were indecipherable as they played across her pale face before, finally, she nodded jerkily.

“That’s good,” she said and her soft voice was equal parts relieved and resigned. “Because I don’t want to lose you.”

Calum thought maybe she understood how overwhelmed he was feeling because Aleisha took his hand securely, lacing their fingers together as she shut the door behind them and led him upstairs.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” Calum whispered, just as he heard a familiar voice calling: “Aleisha, who’re you talking to?!” from the younger girl’s bedroom.

Aleisha rolled her eyes, giving Calum’s hand a gentle squeeze before she dropped it to walk into her room first.

“Stop shouting, Ashley. You’ll wake the neighbours.”

“It’s only nine o’clock!” the older girl argued but her eyes were twinkling when she jumped up from the beanbag to pull Calum into a tight hug. “Hey, gorgeous. I missed you.”

“‘m not gorgeous,” Calum mumbled, just like always. Ashley stuck her tongue out at him as she dropped back down gracelessly onto the beanbag, hitching the bohemian broomstick skirt she was wearing up around her knees so that she could cross her legs. There was an open bottle of pink nail varnish perched precariously on the edge of Aleisha’s desk and the younger girl rolled her eyes as she went to sit on the window seat, passing the varnish to Ashley before the taller girl could spill it.

“Nice colour,” Calum noticed, taking in the way she’d painted half of her toenails and sniggering for the first time in what felt like about a week.

Aleisha drew her knees up to her chest as she sat on the cushioned sill, digging the battered little tin out of the pocket of her shorts and starting to roll herself a cigarette.

“Can I try one again?” Calum asked as he slumped down onto her bed with an easy familiarity despite not having been round there in a little while.

“Sure,” Aleisha said as Ashley leant to put some music on for them on her iPod where it sat in Aleisha’s dock. The Veronicas filled the room and Calum smiled wearily as he stretched out on the pink flowery duvet cover, hands behind his head. He could get behind this.

Calum liked Aleisha’s room.

Her desk was white but it was so covered in makeup, notebooks and random pieces of jewellery that he could barely see the polished wood underneath. Books and DVDs filled the shelves, and there was a pink and purple dreamcatcher hanging from her light in the middle of the room, its feathers swaying gently in the breeze coming in through the open window as Aleisha lit her cigarette, holding it between her lips firmly as she started rolling Calum one too.

Ashley was singing along quite cheerfully to the music as she moved onto the other foot and Calum let his head roll to the side as he looked at her, dragging his gaze away from the band posters covering the walls – Paramore, Evanescence and Deap Vally – and looking at the soft smile tugging at her lips instead as she looked up, meeting his eyes.

Judging by Ashley’s cheerful demeanour, Aleisha either hadn’t told her that Calum had stopped talking to her for a week or the older girl was perceptive and smart enough to realise that bringing it up would be a bad idea.

“Here you go, Cal,” Aleisha said, climbing down from the window as Calum pushed himself up into a sitting position. “You don’t have to smoke out of the window this time,” she added as she placed it between Calum’s lips for him. “I’ll leave the window open tonight. That should air my room enough.”

“Good enough for me,” Calum said, dropping down to sit cross-legged on the carpet in front of Ashley as she proudly finished painting her toenails. Aleisha sat down beside him, reaching over with her lighter and rolling her thumb over the little wheel so that the flame sputtered to life.

Calum still didn’t smoke very much and the rush of nicotine made him feel lightheaded as he inhaled deeply, barely coughing at all this time. He leant back against the bed as his eyes slid shut, letting out a content sigh when Aleisha reached to card her fingers gently through Calum’s dark curls.

“I’m going to brush your hair,” the younger girl decided and Calum blinked his chocolate brown eyes open to look at her. Ashley was watching them too, with her bright smile and her long eyelashes and the vivid aquamarine colour of her pixie cut.

“Sure,” Calum said and Ashley pouted a little at that, her dark lips twisting into a moue of disapproval, like she was feeling left out.

“Can I paint your nails, Cal?” she asked hopefully and, when Calum hesitated, it was more because he was worried about what his _parents_ would say than because he didn’t think it would be viewed as acceptable.

“Fuck gender stereotypes,” Aleisha piped up helpfully, her voice cheerful. Ashley snorted but she clapped her hands in a brief display of excitement when Calum shrugged before nodding, too content at the feeling of the smoke burning in his chest to give much of a damn about anything else.

“Go for it, Ash,” he said, extending his hand towards her. “Paint them black or something though, yeah? I don’t really want pink.”

“Fine by me,” Ashley grinned but she fell quiet when she actually started, her tongue poking out from between her lips as she concentrated. Aleisha was singing along to _Line Of Fire_ in a soft, sweet voice and Calum liked sitting there between them in his skinny jeans with a cigarette jammed between his lips as good music played.

He liked how he _almost_ didn’t notice how fat he felt beneath the black jumper he was bundled up in.

Almost.

“Swap hands,” Ashley ordered but she looked ridiculously pleased with herself and Calum couldn’t blame her when he looked down. The black nail varnish was immaculate and there was something _really_ satisfying about it.

“Y’know, I don’t actually hate this,” Calum admitted as he watched her painting the nails on his other hand. Aleisha was still brushing his hair, teasing the locks into proper curls that he’d probably have to shower to fix later. He liked the nails though. The nails were cool.

“Good. We’re going to try a different colour next time,” Ashley decided and Calum snorted, taking in her ridiculously bright hair and the gleam of her teeth as her lips tugged up into a smile with way too much fondness.

“I have to go home now though,” she said as an afterthought, frowning when her eyes settled on the digital clock half-hidden beneath what looked like Aleisha’s pyjamas. “ _And_ my nails probably haven’t dried yet," she said dramatically. "Damnit.”

“First world problems,” Calum said, completely deadpan. Ashley shoved his shoulder and he let out a bark of laughter which made Aleisha laugh too.

Calum loved having friends like this. They distracted him from how badly he was hurting.

“Take care getting home,” Calum said and Ashley sobered, ducking in to kiss him as wetly as possible on the cheek. Calum pulled a face, wiping it away, and the older girl snorted.

“I’ll be fine,” she promised, looping one arm briefly around his neck in a hug. “Don’t leave it so long next time, Cal,” Ashley said before she pulled away. Calum felt his brow rising.

Maybe she’d known after all.

“I’ll see you both soon,” Ashley announced, kissing Aleisha on the nose – presumably because it was all she’d been able to reach – before she took her iPod from the dock and bounded down the stairs with a too-loud: “I’ll let myself out!”

The slamming of the front door seemed to echo in the sudden silence and Aleisha’s small bedroom felt _cavernous_ when Ashley was gone, taking her larger-than-life personality with her. Calum finished his cigarette and Aleisha passed him the lid of the tin to stub it out in.

“I’ll tidy it up later,” she murmured and Calum nodded his thanks silently.

Aleisha was still stroking his hair but she stopped when Calum let his head fall to rest in the crook of her neck and her arms wrapped around him securely instead. He couldn’t quite find it in himself to pull away from her warmth and there was a little voice in Calum’s head saying that, if they were _normal_ – and if Michael and Luke weren’t in the equation – then this was when they would kiss.

Calum wouldn’t do that though. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He wasn’t like Luke and Ashton.

“Are you okay?” the dark-haired boy whispered when Aleisha exhaled shakily suddenly. He pulled away hesitantly, moving to sit opposite her instead. She hung her head so that her long sandy hair hid her eyes.

“My parents were talking about Jase earlier,” she murmured and it took Calum a moment to remember that this was Aleisha’s brother who was currently in prison for dealing drugs. “They never normally talk about him but they did today and it just got to me I guess.” She sniffed hard, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and cringing again when she smudged her makeup. This time, Aleisha left it on her face. “Do _you_ ever get upset about stupid stuff, Cal?” she whispered.

“That’s not stupid,” Calum interjected but Aleisha’s eyes were burning fiery now.

“I know,” she snapped but he could see in her face that she was still upset. “But do you?”

Calum thought of his life up until that point and the smile that touched his lips wasn’t a pleasant one.

“All the time,” he said in a hollow little voice. “But… maybe if you talk about why… why it upset you… maybe it’ll help?”

“I doubt that.” Aleisha looked like she was thinking though and, after careful consideration, she gave a little shrug of her shoulders like she couldn’t see what harm it would do.

“It reminded me of how scared I used to be for him,” she said after a moment. “I remembered how I used to be so worried that it was all going to end badly when he started spiralling out of control. I remembered how I tried to stop him from going out once, tried to keep him here with me where he was _safe_ but… but he just didn’t give a shit… I remembered that it _did_ end badly… because it was the only time I ever wanted to be proved wrong.” Aleisha swallowed past the lump in her throat but her eyes were still wet and any hope of salvaging her makeup was long gone now. “Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Calum answered but he sounded distracted because her words were running through Calum’s mind and painting pictures there. It reminded Calum of Nina again, of the ending of _Black Swan_ when the dance moves became frantic and the music became as tragically beautiful as shattered crystal.

Hearing Jason’s undoing didn’t just remind Calum of Nina though. It reminded him of _himself_ too maybe… almost too far gone to be afraid anymore.

Aleisha looked at Calum silently, the faintest beginnings of fear colouring her pale face as she took in his empty expression. Michael looked at him the same way too sometimes and the knowledge made a lump rise in Calum’s throat that he almost couldn’t breathe past, thick and choking and obstructive as his eyes prickled with fresh tears.

Michael had always cared about Calum though.

 _Through it all_.

When Aleisha saw that Calum looked seconds away from tears, she correctly guessed what – or rather _who_ – he was thinking about and Calum didn’t even have time to be impressed because she began to speak again.

“I don’t think I like Michael,” Aleisha said uncertainly, biting her lip as she looked away, her hair tumbling down between them to hide her expression again. “He hit blondie.”

Calum thought about how rude Michael had been about Aleisha when he didn’t even _know_ her and it was suddenly a struggle to keep the anger from his tanned face as he saw how hesitant and delicate she was now in her doubt. Calum felt something cold and hot and _numb_ unfurling in his stomach, coiling like smoke on the breeze.

He wanted to protect her.

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it,” Aleisha said suddenly, her voice a little hoarse. “But… but please just tell me this…” She swallowed, like maybe she didn’t want to know the answer. “Should I be worried?” Aleisha asked after a long moment, eyes shiny with tears. “About blondie and Ashton,” she amended when Calum simply watched her. “Should I be worried?”

Calum couldn’t lie to her. Not about this. Not _now_.

“Yes,” he whispered and she pressed her lips tightly together to keep the tears in.

“Thank you, Calum,” she breathed but Calum couldn’t say anything at all because he couldn't believe how badly he'd just complicated things.

The silence stretched on between them and Aleisha broke it with a soft sigh when she let her head fall to rest on the older boy’s broad shoulder.

There was a tightness building in Calum’s chest that didn’t feel like anxiety and it multiplied tenfold when Aleisha looked up at him with soft blueish eyes and golden eyelashes that were spiky with tears.

Calum thought he might love her a little bit. It wasn’t enough though. It would never be enough.

“Are your nails dry yet?” she asked just for something to say.

Calum glanced down, checking briefly and nodding before he began to tap them idly against his thigh. It was a distraction from the pain rising inside him. One tap a second. Thirty taps and Calum had survived another half a minute.

The quiet stretched between them for almost two hundred taps before Calum finally broke it.

“My sister ran away,” Calum whispered into the silence and Aleisha stilled beside him, her arms tightening around him as he fought against his anxiety inside him, letting her hold him close.

“Mali? The one who ran blondie’s dance classes?” Aleisha asked quietly and Calum inhaled shakily, closing his eyes against the hot tears threatening to trickle over. He gave a jerky nod of assent.

He’d managed to convince himself that he was more angry than sad with his sister these days, found that it was the only thing that kept him from breaking down in tears whenever he thought about her but… but _fuck_ , Calum missed her so much.

He couldn’t go on without her for much longer. He felt sure of it.

“Why?” Aleisha whispered and Calum’s exhale was a curious mixture of brittle laughter and a sob.

“My parents… they’re… they’re _awful_ ,” Calum breathed but the guilt he felt was weak at best. David and Joy didn’t deserve it. “They want everyone to think we’re… like this perfect family I guess? And… and we’re just _not_.”

“Like _Dollhouse_ by Melanie Martinez?” Aleisha whispered and… yeah… she kind of had a point.

“Maybe, yeah,” Calum said but his heart was clenching painfully in his chest now and he let his head fall to rest on his drawn-up knees as he struggled to keep his breathing calm. “They just… tear us down? Or _tore_ us, I should say. Mali’s been gone for months. It’s just me now.”

“What do they do to you?” Aleisha asked softly, voice little more than a murmur. Her wide eyes were scared when Calum looked up at her.

He’d never been this close to someone excluding Ashton and Michael before. It was dizzying and freeing and _terrifying_.

“It’s just words,” Calum whispered, like that made it okay. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” Aleisha said sharply but she made no jokes this time about discovering more information about him. Maybe that was why he taunted himself instead.

“Congratulations,” Calum said in a dry little voice that didn’t manage to mask the tears in his eyes. “You just unlocked Level Ten Friendship: Tragic Backstory.”

“Do I get a prize?” Aleisha asked softly but her eyes were damp with tears despite her teasing. Calum let out a shuddering sob and Aleisha’s face crumpled like her heart was breaking in her chest.

“Just me,” he choked out, voice warped with irony and sadness. Aleisha kissed his forehead.

“That’s enough,” she whispered.

The tension after that saturated the whole room but it didn’t stop Calum from sitting curled up beside Aleisha with his cheek resting on her shoulder. She hummed softly under her breath to keep them both calm, rolling Calum another cigarette from the battered little tin to have something to do with her hands but she looked upset when she handed it to him along with a spare lighter, like she knew that it meant he was going to leave her now.

“I’ll come back,” Calum promised but his voice was weak now and he felt like he was breaking. “And… and please don’t tell Luke… I wouldn’t want them to worry… or know that we...”

Aleisha watched him silently for the longest time before she gave him a single nod, a tear rolling down her cheek as she stood with him. Neither of them commented on it.

“ _Please_ look after yourself, Cal,” she whispered imploringly, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Calum’s smile didn’t touch his eyes but he squeezed her cool hand gently in his own before he left, taking the stairs two at a time and shutting the front door firmly behind him before he started off down the driveway. The wind was gusting through the leafy branches of the willow tree that grew in the front garden and they rippled like waves as Calum walked on into the night.

It was so, _so_ dark now – when he glanced at his phone, he was shocked to discover that it was already well gone eleven which meant his parents would be furious with him (if they'd even noticed he'd been _missing_ of course) – but Calum couldn’t bring himself to rush home.

He sat down on a random garden wall instead, taking the cigarette she’d rolled him and jamming it between his lips. He left it unlit for a little while, simply breathing in the fresh night air around him and smelling the scent of petrichor on the breeze which indicated that it had been raining while he was inside with the girls.

Calum dug the spare lighter Aleisha had given him out of the pocket of his skinny jeans, tossing it up into the air and catching it reflexively. It was pink plastic and he could see the lighter fuel sloshing around inside. Calum dragged his thumb clumsily over the little metal wheel and the lighter sputtered to life, the little flame coiling up into the black air, making everything else look that much darker because of it.

Calum reached out with his free hand, tried to ignore the way he was trembling as he touched the flame with his fingertip, just briefly enough that it made him wince. Calum was frowning, his expression faintly dazed as he sucked his finger to rid himself of the sting.

The dark-haired boy lit the cigarette and his lungs – still relatively unused to smoking – protested more abuse. Calum ignored them, fighting against the coughs building in his throat as he rose stiffly, walking along beneath the moonlight on the rain-wet pavement as the tip of the cigarette burnt red-hot in the darkness.

Calum crossed the road without looking, barely making it to the pavement before a dangerously driven car with no headlights swerved to avoid him. The dark-haired boy barely processed it but his heart was thumping loudly in his chest.

Calum watched the car’s taillights as it roared away, thinking about how close it had just come to hitting him.

Calum would have welcomed it.

He smoked the cigarette as slowly as he could, making it last the whole way home.

The cut on his arm was hurting faintly and he was shivering in the thin material of his jumper.

The dark-haired boy didn’t let himself cry but his heart was aching painfully in his chest.

Calum took one last drag of the cigarette, holding the smoke in until it burnt him.

It still wasn’t enough.

Maybe it never would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought by leaving comments and kudos <3


	45. The End Of The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _Michael thought of his dream about Calum again, remembered all of the little details of the kiss that had destroyed everything until his eyes were boiling with tears as he lay there shivering at three in the morning, wondering how his life had gone so fucking badly wrong._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much angst oh my god.  
> I hope you guys will like this though wow <3  
> Also I adore these lyrics like I couldn't not use them.  
> And I missed writing Mikey. So yeah... I'm gonna stop rambling now sorry.  
> I hope you'll all enjoy this <3

**_Think I got myself in trouble,_ **

**_So I fill the bath with bubbles,_ **

**_Then I'll put the towels all away._ **

**_Should've never said the word "love"._ **

**_Threw a toaster in the bathtub._ **

**_I'm sick of all the games I have to play._ **

_\- Soap, Melanie Martinez_

 

_Dimly, Michael was aware that he was dreaming._

_He could see it in the way Calum was the only thing in focus – not like he usually was when all Michael could see was him but that the rest of their surroundings were little more than smoke, swirling and pointless as they withered beneath the bright light that shone from Calum._

_The song_ fallingforyou _was playing softly in the background and Michael was singing. Calum was held safely to Michael’s chest, fragile and delicate…_ breakable _in the red-haired boy’s grip._

_Michael’s hands were rubbing comforting circles into Calum’s back and the younger boy’s breath was warm as it tickled Michael’s throat. Calum’s hands gripped Michael’s shoulders securely, his soft dark curls brushing the underside of Michael’s chin as he cradled him._

_Michael’s lips brushed Calum’s forehead gently and the younger boy didn’t pull away, and it felt like those evenings they’d spent together in the park… those careful hints of kisses that sent their hearts racing frantically in their chests. Calum looked up at him with blown pupils, his chocolate brown eyes soft and beautiful… and then Michael couldn’t breathe and the only thing that made sense anymore was kissing Calum._

_Everything felt like it was speeding up as the people around them materialised and the party was suddenly real again. Calum pulled away and stared with wide, sorry eyes that Michael got lost in. He was cold without Calum cradled to his chest. Michael wanted to fix this but he didn’t know_ how _._

 _”I love you._ Fuck _, Cal, I… I_ **love** _you.”_

_Calum stared at Michael with absolute horror before he fled._

_Michael had done what he’d always been terrified of doing._

_He'd driven Calum away._

 

Michael jerked awake with a weak sob, his throat rasping enough that it was evident he’d been crying for some time now. His cheeks felt sticky with tears and Michael curled his hands into fists as his skin itched. One of his hands flared with pain and Michael sat bolt upright with a broken gasp, his eyes faintly panicked before he remembered his broken hand.

The spare room in Graham’s house – _Michael’s_ room now – was brighter than his room had been at home. The curtains were a thinner material and the darkness was disturbed with an orangey glow from the streetlights outside. A car roared past somewhere outside and Michael sniffed hard, leaning to wipe his eyes with the corner of the duvet as his ribs ached weakly at the stretch.

All Michael could see in his mind’s eye was Calum’s face when he broke the kiss and reeled back in shock. He could see the instability and the pain and the _fear_ , and Michael felt all of the guilt again, rushing back and threatening to crush the air from his tired lungs as his skin crawled with shame.

The kiss wasn’t even the part Michael regretted most though. It was the fact that he’d told Calum he _loved_ him because – damnit, because… because Michael _did_ … and now he’d told Calum and it was out there in the ether and there was absolutely _nothing_ Michael could do to get it back.

If he’d only kissed Calum, Michael could have lied about that… could have said he was drunk and stupid and didn’t know what he was doing but… but it felt harder to lie about words he believed with every fibre of his being. It felt impossible.

The pain was building up inside Michael now and he almost couldn’t breathe from it. His heart felt like it was splintering apart in his chest, shards puncturing his lungs and filling them with blood, making his breath punch out of him in choked gasps.

It was a panic attack probably – Michael would live to tell the tale and he’d be alive to feel incredibly ashamed of himself in the morning, but right now it felt like the end of the world.

Michael felt like a different person to the one he’d been when all of this had first started and he wasn’t convinced that he’d changed for the better. His broken hand proved that. So did the agony in his chest.

Michael kicked the duvet away where it was twisting around his legs, climbing to his feet and clutching the headboard against his better judgement as his head spun. The clock on the bedside table informed him that it was just after three in the morning and Michael groaned as his stomach twisted with anxiety. There was no way he was going back to sleep when he felt this level of shitty.

He’d at least have to get out of his room and get some water first. The only silver lining was that it was Saturday tomorrow so Michael had nowhere to be when he would no doubt be exhausted all day long.

Michael felt pathetic as he stumbled down the stairs in the darkness, holding his breath against the sobs that still wanted to escape him even now because the last thing he wanted to do was wake Graham up. His uncle had got home from the hospital very late after his shift had overran and he needed his sleep.

Michael staggered at the bottom of the stairs, catching his shoulder on the banister as he stepped shakily into the hallway. The tears in his eyes began to fall again and Michael fisted his good hand tightly in an effort to hide the trembling as he crept through the silent house, padding into the kitchen.

Michael switched the light on, wincing at the too-bright light before his emerald green eyes adjusted. He wandered to the sink and filled a glass from the drying rack with water, taking a sip as he stood there staring at his reflection in the window. With the light on in the kitchen, it was too dark outside to see anything there but Michael could see himself and he kind of hated it.

His red hair was a mess around his usually-pale face and his cheeks were flushed with blood. The bags under his eyes looked like someone had punched him in the face and the bruise on Michael’s chin beneath the stubble was an ugly yellowish colour now as it faded.

His sobs were still ripping through him, shaking his shoulders hard like they were trying to tear him apart. Michael’s breath escaped him in another ragged gasp and he bit back a sob, taking his glass in his good hand and turning the light off before he headed towards the living room instead.

He only turned one lamp on in there, bathing the room in a soft glow as the sixteen year old huddled up on the sofa beneath the thick-knitted blanket that Graham left stretched across it. Michael’s water sat on the coffee table nearby, placed perfectly in the centre of one of the placemats.

Michael had stacked the rest of them neatly the previous evening, lining them up beside the remote controls and a TV guide. The books on the shelf were ordered alphabetically now and Michael’s heart beat a little easier in his chest.

He felt more comfortable in this room… _safer_ almost… like being in such an ordered place helped the air fill his lungs. There was a notebook lined up on the table too with a biro angled diagonally across it.

Michael reached for them with a shaking hand, closing his eyes for a moment and fighting not to flinch when Calum’s pained face flickered behind his lids.

Michael thought of his dream about Calum again, remembered all of the little details of the kiss that had destroyed everything until his eyes were boiling with tears as he lay there shivering at three in the morning, wondering how his life had gone so fucking badly wrong.

Michael’s thoughts were such a jumbled mess and he couldn’t quiet the roar of them. The paper was smooth beneath the pads of his fingers though and the plastic of the pen was cool when Michael took it into his good hand, managing to suppress his shudder as he tightened his grip.

Michael’s panicky breaths calmed as he wrote but the tears kept falling.

God, sometimes it felt like they’d never stop.

 

**_Oh say, can you see? This is not who I'm supposed to be._ **

**_Without you I'm nobody, killing time._ **

**_I try to deceive, try to win you desperately._ **

**_Now I'm lost in the swirling sea of your sorry eyes._ **

 

Michael sat there in silence for a long time as he stared down at the words, his fingertips gently brushing the indentations he’d left in the paper once the ink was dry. His chest was still a little tight though and, when Michael lowered the biro back to the paper, his pulse calmed further.

He was utterly exhausted and he could barely stay awake as he scribbled the last few sentences down in his messy writing.

 

**_All my life, I've been waiting for moments to come,_ **

**_When I catch fire and wash over you like the sun._ **

**_I will fight to fix up and get things right._ **

**_I can't change the world, but maybe I'll change your mind._ **

 

The notebook slipped from Michael’s fingers to settle on the carpet with a muted thud and the pen rolled from his slack grip. The words were burned into Michael’s heart but his breathing was calm now as his cheek pressed against the soft material of the sofa.

Michael slept for hours, waking up only when he heard a low knock on the front door and heard Graham hurrying to get it. The radio was playing softly in the kitchen and the sunlight was muted as it shone in through the curtains in the living room. Michael felt warm and surprisingly content as he lay snuggled up under the blanket but that all went to hell when he heard who was standing at the door.

“Daryl?!” Graham’s voice was quiet but the fury in his tone was unmistakable. “Leave. Now. I don’t want Mikey to see you. He’s upset enough as it is.”

“I know he is!” Daryl’s voice was weak but several octaves too high with his stress. Michael could almost picture him wringing his hands together uselessly as he stood back and let his wife do whatever she wanted to their only son. “I drove here… brought his things…”

There was a moment of absolute silence and Michael choked on the lump rising in his throat, his bloodshot eyes burning as he stared blankly at the words he’d written the night before, fading into little more than black smears as his vision blurred with tears.

“You’re not even going to _try_ to get him back… are you?” Graham sounded equal parts angry and ashamed with his brother.

Daryl must have shaken his head because Graham sounded cold when he spoke next.

“Good,” Graham said harshly but his voice was thick with something that might have been tears. “I swear to god, you _fucking_ coward, Michael will not be hurt again. No one is going to lay a fucking finger on him while I have anything to say about it.”

“Fine,” Daryl said faintly but his voice was shaking when he spoke next. “Karen… she… she made me bring everything of… of his so… so can you help me…?”

“You’re pathetic,” Graham said quietly but his voice was almost soft now, like the fight was leaking out of him. “And just so she knows, I’m not going to forget this. Michael won’t disappear just because neither of you are capable of looking after him anymore. You’re lucky I didn’t call the fucking police but Mike _begged_ me not to and –”

Graham’s words faded as he presumably walked with Daryl to unload Michael’s stuff from the car and the red-haired boy wasn’t particularly surprised to discover that he was crying silently as he lay there, aching and so bone-tired that he felt sick.

Michael pushed himself into a sitting position when he heard the tell-tale sounds of them returning to the house and, after a moment’s careful consideration, Michael rose on shaky legs and walked out into the hallway.

Daryl flinched when he saw his son standing there, still just as bruised and pale as he had been on the night he left, but Michael simply watched him blankly, keeping his gaze as carefully vacant as he could because it was unnerving the hell out of Daryl.

Michael silently willed himself to keep from crying but it was _hard_ when his gaze settled on his guitar and Xbox which were now sitting in the hallway among the bags and a suitcase which seemed to be stuffed with all of Michael’s clothes.

It made the lump in Michael’s throat burn as he looked at all of his things because it felt a lot like his parents were trying their hardest to pretend that he’d never been there at all.

Michael was pleased he hadn’t stayed hiding in the living room. His father deserved to feel one tiny trace of the discomfort Michael was steeped in. It was the least he deserved.

Daryl left without another word and Michael sagged against his uncle’s chest when Graham took him into his arms, his fingers rising to card through his nephew’s crimson hair comfortingly as Michael let out a broken sob.

The tears were relentless as they streamed silently down Michael’s cheeks but he almost felt _relieved_ as Graham shushed him gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Standing there in his uncle’s arms, Michael finally felt safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought :)
> 
> Also I'll try to update again very soon but it might be after Christmas now so, if it is, I hope you guys all have a lovely holiday! <3


	46. In The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _“Why don’t you go out and do something fun?” his sister suggested after a moment. “You shouldn’t just sit inside if you don’t feel great.” Calum swallowed past the tears threatening to choke him but Mali continued. “Life’s too short, Cal.”_  
>  _“Not short enough,” he whispered._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm really sorry for the delay! I didn't get any writing done this week as too much stuff was going on but I hope you guys had a lovely Christmas if you celebrate it and if not, I hope you just had a cool week.  
> Hope you guys will like this - lots of Stuff is happening soon!

**_I'm looking at you through the glass._ **

**_Don't know how much time has passed._ **

**_Oh, god it feels like forever,_ **

**_But no one ever tells you,_ **

**_That forever feels like home,_ **

**_Sitting all alone inside your head._ **

_\- Through Glass, Stone Sour_

 

All of Calum’s resolve regarding his older sister went out of the window when Mali called him on Saturday morning.

Her voice was soft and sweet as she asked Calum how he was and told him how sunny it was in Canberra. It turned out she’d been learning to play the guitar with Harry and that he had a band who went to the university too. Mali told Calum she was working in a bar and that she’d made friends with a girl called Melanie, and all the while she was talking, Calum sat cross-legged on his bed with his trembling hand clamped over his mouth as the tears rolled silently down his cheeks.

Calum couldn’t pretend anymore. He wasn’t angry with Mali at all because… because how _could_ he be resentful and bitter when all she’d done was try to salvage something from the situation? When all she’d done was try to save herself?

If Calum had been in her position, he would have done the same thing too –

But he wasn’t.

Calum had been left behind with a hard knot of tears in his chest and anxiety wrapped like barbed wire around his crumbling body, the only thing keeping him moving sometimes, like electricity sparking in water.

“Cal… have you been okay?” Mali asked softly when the conversation came to a natural end and her younger brother exhaled shakily. “You’re so quiet lately.”

Calum knew she wasn’t just talking about the phone call and that set guilt burning unpleasantly in his churning stomach as he bit his full bottom lip hard. He barely replied to her text messages anymore because they were like a snapshot of her life and reading what she was up to made a lump rise in his throat.

“I’m fine,” Calum said unconvincingly and the silence on Mali’s end of the line was strained.

“Why don’t you go out and do something fun?” his sister suggested after a moment. “You shouldn’t just sit inside if you don’t feel great.” Calum swallowed past the tears threatening to choke him but Mali continued. “Life’s too short, Cal.”

“Not short enough,” he whispered before he could stop himself but luckily she didn’t hear him. Calum wiped his eyes hard with the back of his hand, rising shakily from his bed to stride over to the window. It was a grey, cloudy day outside and the driveway was empty of cars. His parents were out.

“You’re right,” Calum said, speaking more loudly now. “I’m going to Ash’s later...” Mali made a small, pleased sound and Calum wanted Mali to hold him so much suddenly, wanted her arms wrapped around him tightly as she stroked his hair and kissed his forehead, promising that everything was going to be okay again, even if it _was_ a lie.

“And… I’m glad you’re happy, Mali,” he finished sincerely and the dark-haired girl sniffed like she was trying not to cry. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, squirt,” Mali promised but her voice was thick with tears and she was gone before Calum had a chance to reply.

The football captain felt raw when he left the house a few minutes later, like layers and layers of him had been scraped back so that they were exposed to the elements. The cut on Calum’s arm had faded enough that he could roll the sleeves of his jumper back without worrying but he could still feel it if he thought about it too much, lingering like a ghost almost, just enough that Calum couldn’t entirely forget that he’d cut himself in the first place.

They’d arranged to meet at Ashton’s a few days previously to play more music, just the four of them, but Calum was kind of starting to dread it now. He didn’t want to see Michael because the inevitable tension between them _hurt_ , and Calum wasn’t exactly thrilled with the way Ashton and Luke were together either. Seeing them just made him feel terrible for keeping this from Aleisha.

Calum could feel his anxiety clawing at his chest as he carried his bass guitar towards Ashton’s house. The clouds overhead were rolling in, gradually darkening as they threatened rain, and Calum thought briefly of the sunshine in Canberra before his bitter tears threatened again and Calum reached into his pocket for a cigarette. He’d bought a pack of them a few nights ago in the third shop he’d gone into since it had taken that long to find someone who would serve him but Calum had already smoked over half of them.

Sometimes they hit the spot and sometimes it felt like he was right back to square one again, choking and coughing as the burning smoke filled his lungs, making him struggle to catch his breath. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme nor reason to it and Calum didn’t understand it.

That was okay though. Calum didn’t understand much of anything anymore.

The sixteen year old felt out of breath as he walked along but he didn’t think it was because of the cigarettes. It had been happening a lot lately though, Calum getting tired and losing energy for seemingly no reason at all. He wondered if it was because he was fatter than ever, even despite how little food he was eating except… maybe that didn’t quite add up…

Calum was still conflicted when he made it to Ashton’s house, stubbing his cigarette out just in time as Michael walked back down the driveway towards Luke’s house, presumably to fetch the blond boy. Calum’s cheeks heated at the close call but he managed a faint smile when he saw Ashton appear in the doorway as the younger boy approached the house.

“Hi, Cal,” Ashton said but there was a soft, concerned look on his face when he looked at his best friend and it made the lump rise in Calum’s throat again, thick with enough tears that Calum suddenly couldn’t swallow past it. He tried to distract himself by carefully shutting the door and removing his coat but his voice still sounded choked when he murmured a quiet: “Hey, Ash.”

The curly-haired boy’s look of concern grew and he pulled Calum into a tight hug. The younger boy’s thoughts drifted briefly to Mali and Calum was pulling Ashton closer without thinking, letting out a tiny hurt sound before he could stop himself that made Ashton squeeze him even tighter. Calum wanted to wriggle away when it occurred to him that Ashton would almost undoubtedly be able to feel how fat the younger boy was but the goalkeeper was holding him close enough that Calum didn’t stand a chance and it made panic rise inside him against his better judgement, sticky and hot and nauseating.

Ashton looked worried when he saw the pain on Calum’s face but the dark-haired boy barely had time to dwell on it when Ashton wrapped an arm firmly around Calum’s waist, leading him into the living room and pulling him down onto the sofa with him.

Calum’s tears were burning his eyes as he curled up in front of Ashton so that none of his weight was on the older boy. Ashton wasn’t having it though and he pulled his best friend close, wrapping one arm around Calum tightly as he stroked the younger boy’s hair with his free hand. Calum tucked his head away beneath Ashton’s chin, hiding his face as he fought not to fall apart at the contact.

“We don’t give you hugs enough anymore,” Ashton whispered and his voice was saturated with regret. He hugged Calum closer than ever. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry _for_ ,” Calum argued but his voice was shaking and his cheeks flushed crimson when a sob tore out of him without his permission. Aleisha’s face flashed behind Calum’s eyes suddenly and he stiffened as Ashton’s face crumpled, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks.

“Neither do you,” Ashton promised and he spoke with so much sincerity that Calum let out a whimper as the anxiety in his chest multiplied tenfold. Calum’s crying was making his irritated throat flare up with pain and his stomach was knotting painfully as his nausea churned inside him. Ashton kept stroking his back though, rubbing gentle circles and making quiet shushing noises as the tears trickled red-hot down Calum’s flaming cheeks.

A part of him wanted to wriggle away from Ashton because he felt like he didn’t deserve the comfort but his tears were boiling and Calum felt so damn humiliated as he lay there limply in his best friend’s arms, hating himself for inevitably scaring Ashton like this.

“I love you, Cal,” Ashton murmured but that only managed to remind Calum of that night when Michael had told him the same thing and it made the dark-haired boy cry harder. Ashton’s hazel eyes became panic stricken. “Shit, Cal, I - Crying’s okay. Crying’s _good_ but you’re going to make yourself _sick_ if you keep -”

Calum stiffened in Ashton’s arms. All he could think of were those countless times he’d knelt on the bathroom tiles with the cold seeping icily into his bones as despair filled him and the acid burnt his throat, boiling tears searing down his flushed cheeks as he choked and gagged on his fingers.

Calum’s sobbing became wretched as he clung to a pale-faced Ashton, his breath tearing raggedly out of him as he cried. Calum felt sick with himself for showing such weakness now but it felt impossible to hold his pain in anymore. He’d been suffocating in it for too long.

Calum froze when he heard the sound of the front door opening and cold terror flooded through him as Michael and Luke appeared in the doorway. The relief Ashton seemed to be feeling was palpable and Calum choked on another sob, covering his face with his hands as his shame made it suddenly difficult to breathe past the anxiety burning in his chest.

“ _Calum_ ,” Michael breathed when he saw him.

The red-haired boy looked agonised as he stood there, pale hands hanging limply at his sides as he stared at his oldest best friend with _longing_ saturating his face. Calum struggled in vain to catch his breath but another sob tore out of him as he looked up at Michael warily, tears still streaming down his cheeks, muscles coiled as tightly as a spring, like Calum would be able to escape to safety if he could just pluck up the courage to break the silence.

In the end, it was Michael.

“I don’t care if things are weird between us now,” the older boy whispered, looking conflicted for a moment before he finally gave in and sat down shakily at the end of the sofa. His broken, emerald green eyes were blazing with something that Calum tried hard not to name but, in the end, Calum knew it was love. “I just want my best _friend_ back.”

Michael’s last few words came out choked as the tears began to slide down his face but he spread his arms and Calum flung himself into them before he could think twice about it, sobs tearing out of him anew as Ashton wriggled carefully away and rushed to Luke’s side. The pair of them lingered there for a moment before Luke gave Calum’s shoulder a gentle squeeze and the older boy started to cry.

Then they were gone, and it was just Calum and Michael again; the two of them through it all, the way it was _supposed_ to be.

Michael was warm as he cradled Calum in his arms and the dark-haired boy could barely breathe with how hard he was crying now but he didn’t care about any of it anymore. All he was focused on was Michael, with his freshly dyed red hair and the exhaustion marring his tired face as he cuddled his best friend in a way he hadn’t been able to for a long, _long_ time.

Calum’s breath heaved out of him in a strangled sob when the older boy held him closer but the numbness inside Calum was doing a little to alleviate the worst of his anxiety and Calum calmed slightly as his forehead fell to rest in the crook of Michael’s neck. The older boy smelt comforting and _safe_ , and Calum’s looped arms tightened where they were wrapped around his shoulders. Michael’s t-shirt was soft against the dark-haired boy’s cheek.

God, Calum missed him.

“I’ve got you, Cal,” Michael whispered and he sounded less choked up now too, like being able to hold the younger boy close was doing wonders for his anxiety. “Through it all, I’ve got you. I’m not leaving.”

Suddenly Calum was reminded of that night in the park beneath the stars. He remembered how Michael looked in the amber glow of the streetlights with his cherry-coloured lips and the ruby of his hair. Calum remembered the cold air contrasting with the warmth of Michael’s hand where it settled on Calum’s shoulder, remembered the way Michael looked at him beneath the rain as his glittering emerald green eyes burnt and his full lips parted and… and Calum was struggling to remember what he was crying about when Michael cupped his cheeks gently and looked at him with a sad, worried expression.

“I’m worried about you, Cally,” Michael began and there were tears brimming in his tired eyes again as he carded his fingers gently through Calum’s dark curls. They were thinning a little now but Calum hadn’t noticed until now. Michael’s teeth sank into his lower lip as he worried. “You don’t look the same anymore,” Michael whispered and he was trembling faintly as he held Calum closer with his free arm. “I’m scared.”

Calum’s heart lurched painfully in his chest and his hollow stomach churned with nausea but he refused to let himself think about it, simply pressing his lips together so hard they looked bloodless as he held onto Michael tighter than ever, his shaking hands knotting in the material of the older boy’s t-shirt as Calum anchored himself there.

The younger boy’s dark eyes found the tanned patch of skin on his arm where, up until a few days previously, a cut had been carved into the skin. Calum’s nails bit into his arm and he closed his eyes tight against the sudden rush of tears that threatened as Michael held him close, almost tightly enough to make Calum stop feeling like he was falling apart –

But then Michael let go of him and the emptiness swirling inside threatened to smother Calum.

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought by leaving comments and kudos :)  
> Thanks again <3


	47. Come Out Of The Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum’s lips tugged up into a slightly crooked smile that definitely didn’t touch his eyes but he relaxed a little all the same._  
>  _“Thank you,” Calum said quietly, his full lips brushing Michael’s shoulder without meaning to when he tucked his face away again to hide it. “I don’t deserve you.”_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took me a few days to upload but I wanted to get it right. I'm still not convinced I managed it but fingers crossed this is okay!  
> I hope you guys will enjoy it <3

**_When you're not here I'm suffocating._ **

**_I want to feel love, run through my blood._ **

**_Tell me, is this where I give it all up?_ **

**_For you I have to risk it all._ **

_\- Writing’s On The Wall, Sam Smith_

 

Michael couldn’t stop worrying about Calum and he knew he wasn’t alone in it. He’d spoken to Ashton when they’d hung out last weekend and the older boy had admitted that he was worried about Calum losing weight too but that had only succeeded in scaring Michael more… the fact that maybe his fears weren’t unwarranted.

The only upside of that day was that he’d got to be close to Calum again. Michael had held him and he’d promised that everything would be alright, and Calum was talking to him again now. They’d started walking to school together again, talking about Fifa and music and the classes they were taking, and everything might still have felt strained but Michael would take it.

He just wanted his best friend back again.

Calum felt the same despite his misgivings. Michael’s feelings had always been more important than his own and this realisation was at the forefront of Calum’s mind when he answered a call from Michael on Friday evening.

“Hey, Mikey,” Calum said softly as he settled down on his bed, keeping his voice quiet as he inhaled unsteadily. He’d just gone for a long, _long_ walk along the beach to clear his head and the wind had been strong enough that the scent of cigarette smoke had mostly stopped clinging to his clothes now, damp as they were from seaspray.

“Hi, Cal,” Michael said and his voice was so warm that it made Calum’s chocolate brown eyes flutter shut as he lay there, cold feet tucked under the duvet, trembling body swamped in an oversized jumper that made him feel smaller than he was. “I know it’s seven so you might have eaten already but… y’know… I wondered if you wanted to come over tonight? I could do food… and I thought it might be nice…”

Michael’s voice trailed away uncertainly and he seemed unnerved by the silence on the other end of the phone. Calum’s heart clenched in his chest but he fought down against the tide of panic that threatened to rise inside of him, trying to reassure himself that this was what Michael wanted and… and that meant that Calum wasn’t going to _lose_ him and… and any terror he felt at the prospect was worth it if it made Michael happy again… if it meant that he actually wanted to _see_ Calum.

“Okay,” the younger boy breathed, pushing himself up shakily into a sitting position and running his fingers through the damp, dark tangles of his hair as he swallowed past the lump in his throat. “You want me to come over now? I thought I saw your parents earlier…”

“Oh,” Michael said blankly and a faint frown creased Calum’s face. “No, I… I’ve been staying at Graham’s for… y’know… for a few days… but he’s out tonight...” He seemed to be biting his lip because his words came out slightly distorted. “Do you remember the way?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there. I just need to get changed first,” Calum said and he hoped Michael didn’t pick up on the slightly breathless note to his voice. “See you in a little while, Mikey. You want me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself,” Michael said quietly. “Take care, mate.”

Calum ended the call, heading into the bathroom and pointedly keeping his eyes away from both the toilet and his reflection in the mirror as he stripped, stepping into the shower and doing his best to drown his panicky thoughts in scalding water.

Calum slipped when he got out of the shower, catching his hip on the shower door and biting his lip against the pained whimper that tore out of him. He covered what would no doubt be a bruise with his hand, feeling how sharp his hipbone felt against his palm before he chanced a glance down at himself and realised he was mistaken.

Calum couldn’t even _see_ his bones with how fat he was. It made nausea churn in his stomach and he pinched at the rolls of fat hard, bruising the skin spitefully between his fingertips as his eyes burnt with tears.

Calum felt sick with himself as he hurried back to his bedroom, grateful that his parents were out having a work dinner with David’s boss because it meant that Calum didn’t have to explain where he was going.

The dark-haired boy picked a black Nirvana t-shirt and his favourite torn skinny jeans from his wardrobe, dragging a beanie on over his wet curls and hurrying down the stairs in his socks so that he wouldn’t make Michael wait for too long.

Calum lingered in the hallway, taking in the circles under his eyes and the soreness of his bottom lip from where he’d been biting at it worriedly. He looked away from himself, faint disgust souring his expression as he shrugged into his black denim jacket, dragged his Vans on and sent Michael a quick text to let him know that he was on his way.

It was a cool night and Calum could hear fireworks exploding in the distance. It reminded him that it was Luke’s birthday party tonight and the football captain couldn’t help being relieved that he hadn’t attended. Calum had immediately made his excuses and Michael’s vague dislike of the blond boy had never been a secret but Ashton had gone tonight, as had Aleisha.

Calum had been texting her during his walk on the beach actually. They’d been discussing what to buy Ashley for her birthday since the older girl’s party was next weekend and Calum had found the whole situation stressful enough that it had warranted a cigarette. He was kind of itching for one now to be honest and Calum considered it before shrugging internally. It probably didn’t matter anyway.

He walked more slowly as the stars began to flare to life in the sky overhead, cigarette jammed between his lips, dark eyes fixed on the damp pavement and the glow of the headlights as the cars rushed past.

Calum’s fingers were trembling by the time he reached Graham’s house but the lights were on and he could see the glow of it washing out into the darkness. The sky smelt like rain although the clouds hadn’t yet parted and the night was rapidly drawing in by the time Calum raised his fist to knock on the front door.

Michael pulled it open after a few moments, the sleeves of his Slipknot sweatshirt stretched down over his hands as he gave the dark-haired boy a timid, hopeful-looking smile. Calum could smell chicken and what might have been prawns cooking, and his stomach rumbled without his permission, hollow and aching as it noisily protested the fact that Calum had only eaten a cereal bar yesterday evening to tide him over.

“I’m making paella,” Michael told Calum proudly as he pushed the door shut behind him. It explained the smells. “I need to go and check on it. C’mon in, Cal. Come out of the cold.”

Calum left his Vans in the hallway beside Michael’s combat boots and… and what looked like his Converse and the running shoes he unwillingly wore for PE at school. Calum’s frown deepened as he followed his best friend into the kitchen. Maybe Michael _wasn’t_ just staying here for a few days after all.

A little of the tension bled out of Michael when he returned to the warm kitchen, leaving Calum to remove his shoes in the hallway. Michael was having a relatively good day in terms of his OCD and he’d got a lot of sleep the night before which was good but he was still worried. Calum looked especially thin tonight with the shadows under his eyes and the permanent pinched look of his face, and he’d been hiding his arms the last time he was wearing something that wasn’t a school uniform, acting like _Ashton_ had done once and… and _damnit_ , Michael just wanted to remind Calum how it was to be happy - how it was when _they_ were happy - because it had been far too long and, despite everything, Michael still loved him.

When Calum appeared behind Michael in the reflection, he was looking for all the world like he loved Michael too. The red-haired boy shook that thought away though because thinking things like that would only hurt him in the long run and he’d never be able to act like they’d used to do if he was tormenting himself with impossibilities.

“You alright?” Michael asked as he checked on the paella, making sure the meat was cooked properly. He looked strangely content as he cooked for them and the look in Calum’s dark eyes was indecipherable as he watched Michael.

“I’m fine,” Calum said quietly, leaning against the doorway as he observed the older boy cooking. “You?”

“I’m good,” Michael replied distractedly, adding some sweet corn to the mixture in the pan and stirring it in before he looked up again. The condensation was beginning to steam up the window and Calum’s reflection became invisible. Michael turned to face his best friend.

“Hug?” Michael suggested quietly from where he was resting against the counter. He opened his arms hesitantly and Calum pushed himself forwards, pressing up against Michael’s chest and tucking his face away into the comforting smell of the older boy’s neck as Calum fisted his hands loosely in the back of Michael’s sweatshirt.

“Hug,” Calum confirmed, the word little more than a mumble against the red-haired boy’s throat. Michael shivered, the action almost unnoticeable as he tightened his grip. Calum tried hard not to think about how fat he must feel in Michael’s arms but his anxiety quickly reared its head when Michael suddenly sniffed, his grip slackening where he’d been holding Calum’s hips gently.

“Have you been smoking, Cal?” Michael asked in a hushed voice and the dark-haired boy jerked his head up in shock, grimacing as he remembered the cigarette he’d smoked on the way here. The smell was still lingering on his clothes and it shouldn’t have been a big deal - Michael had smoked before after all and he undoubtedly would again… It was just that Calum had always sworn he’d never do it and Michael had believed him. So had Ashton.

“Please,” Calum breathed and his eyes were faintly desperate as he looked up into Michael’s pale face. “Promise me you won’t tell Ash. He’ll only worry.”

“Does he _need_ to worry?” Michael asked sharply but his green eyes were faintly concerned. A soft sigh escaped him at the look on his best friend’s face and Michael’s shoulders slumped. “Fine, Calum,” he said but there was a faint hint of what _might_ have been disappointment colouring his tone which Calum didn’t think was fair. “I promise,” Michael said heavily.

Calum felt small in Michael’s limp grip and he bit down on his bottom lip hard as he leant against his best friend, savouring the warmth before Michael inevitably pushed him away. A tiny startled sound escaped Calum when Michael tightened his grip instead and the dark-haired boy looked up at him in confusion, his chocolate brown eyes soft and damp.

“I don’t think I’m allowed to be pissed off at you,” Michael murmured as one of his hands moved to give Calum’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “I do enough stupid shit of my own. It’s hardly fair to judge someone else for theirs.”

Calum’s lips tugged up into a slightly crooked smile that definitely didn’t touch his eyes but he relaxed a little all the same.

“Thank you,” Calum said quietly, his full lips brushing Michael’s shoulder without meaning to when he tucked his face away again to hide it. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Bullshit,” Michael said but his tone was soft and gentle, marred by the faint smile in his voice. Michael moved his hand from Calum’s shoulder but the movement accidentally knocked Calum’s beanie off and it made the younger boy squeak, cheeks flaming because his fluffy curls were on display now and it made him look like a little kid probably. Michael didn’t laugh at him though. His emerald eyes were soft as he stroked Calum's curls gently and the younger boy swallowed past the lump in his throat, wishing deeply that they could let themselves have this.

“I’ve always loved your hair,” Michael murmured, words so soft that he might not have intended for Calum to hear. The younger boy gazed at him and Michael’s cheeks flushed red, like he’d just realised what he was saying.

“I… uh… I’ve already put the cutlery out but I don’t know what you want to drink,” Michael said hurriedly and Calum felt the panic crawling over him again as he was reminded of the reason why he was here. _Food_. He had to eat **food**. “There’s cans of Sprite in the fridge if you want… or you can just have water or squash or something.”

“Okay,” Calum mumbled, heading towards the fridge. “Thank you. You want me to grab you a Sprite too?”

“Sure,” Michael said easily, cherry-red lips pulling up into a smile as he turned to check on the paella. Michael exhaled unevenly. “God, I’m glad I checked it then. I think it was about to burn.”

“That’s because I distracted you,” Calum pointed out as he carried their drinks towards the dining table through the archway that separated the rooms. “Sorry about that, Mikey.”

The dining room joined onto Graham’s living room through another arch and Calum had to admit that he liked how everything was laid out here. Downstairs was all very open plan and the house felt a lot less claustrophobic than his did sometimes.

The rooms were lit with a soft glow thanks to the numerous lamps scattered around the room and the air smelt clean and fresh; a mixture of candles, laundry detergent and the plants growing on the windowsill. Michael’s Xbox was hooked up to the television too and Calum felt himself frowning again as he looked down at the familiar controller where it was resting neatly on the coffee table. Calum felt rather than saw Michael stiffen in the doorway, following Calum’s gaze as he waited with bated breath for the verdict.

“You’re not just _staying_ here, are you, Mike?” Calum realised but it didn’t really sound like a question. “You’ve been living here.”

“Yeah, I have,” Michael whispered, closing his eyes for just a moment to hide whatever emotion might be in them before he turned away, kneeling to get two plates out of the cupboard as he forced the sadness from his face. “But please don’t ask me why, Cal... and don't say anything to anyone else please. I don’t want to talk about it.”

The dark-haired boy was growing worried now but he let it go, taking in the desperation on Michael's face and swallowing past his own worries as he accepted it with surprisingly good grace. Michael looked relieved when he straightened, beginning to dish up.

“Can I have a little less please, Mikey?” Calum asked carefully from his place in the doorway. Michael looked over his shoulder at him with a frown. “I’m not so hungry today to be honest.”

Calum was panicking a lot now that he could see the steaming food on the plate, now that he could tell how fucking great it smelt as he took in the chunks of chicken and juicy prawns, the buttery sweet corn and long-grain rice, and the little slivers of pepper the colour of gemstones…

God, Calum was getting into a state over this.

“Cal?” Michael asked quietly and the calm Calum was fighting to exude didn’t seem to be doing much because the happiness that had been burning in the red-haired boy’s eyes when he opened the door had long since flickered out.

Calum didn’t want to see Michael’s face fall again.

“Forget I said anything,” Calum whispered so that the lie wouldn’t be so obvious. “That looks really great, Mikey. I’m sure it’ll hit the spot.”

Calum must have still seemed a little uncertain though because Michael looked faintly upset as he drifted over, taking in the emotions playing across the dark-haired boy’s face as he struggled with his conflicting thoughts.

The paella looked so nice and Calum wanted it so _badly_ but he didn’t think he could let himself have it.

Michael was watching his best friend with this hollow sort of knowing that made Calum’s empty stomach turn and the dark-haired boy swallowed past his fear, taking in Michael’s soft lips and even softer eyes as he felt himself weakening.

“Cally?” Michael asked uncertainly but his voice was small as he stood there beneath the too-bright lights in the kitchen. He looked _lost_.

Calum wrapped his arms gently around Michael’s waist before he could stop himself, holding Michael close until the older boy came to his senses and tightened his grip too.

“It’s okay,” Calum whispered and it didn’t feel as much like a lie as it sometimes did. “I promise, Mikey. It’s okay.”

Calum drew back to find Michael watching him with a confusing mixture of emotions playing across his face - concern and fondness and worry, all twisting together to create something heartrendingly beautiful.

Calum brushed Michael’s cheek gently with his knuckles but he frowned faintly when the red-haired boy flinched, like he was scared it was going to hurt. Calum didn’t know what it meant but he stretched up on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Michael’s shoulders, trying his hardest to comfort his best friend without words, like he used to do at school sometimes when Michael got told off. Calum would squeeze his hand tightly under the table while the teacher was yelling and Michael wouldn’t even cry. He’d just hold Calum’s hand even more tightly back.

“Thank you,” Michael whispered but he wouldn’t meet Calum’s gaze. His lips were twisting into a smile though and his step seemed lighter as he took their plates of food back into the dining room. “C’mon, Cal,” he said quietly. Calum let out a tiny sigh. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

Calum dropped down into the seat across from Michael, biting his lip when his plate of food was set down in front of him. It looked mouthwatering now and Calum’s hollow stomach was tying itself into knots as he twisted his hands nervously in his lap. When Calum jerked his head up, Michael was watching him with sad eyes, like he was thinking about something that would probably make the dark-haired boy cry.

“Please try to eat some, Cal,” Michael whispered and Calum stiffened but he couldn’t panic properly tonight. He was too tired and empty and drained for that. He did wonder what the red-haired boy had worked out though and that thought was enough to scare Calum a little.

“I will,” he promised and Michael looked so happy that Calum felt Michael’s hope beginning to burn away the fear in his heart.

The evening still ended the same way though, with Calum back home, crying and purging until he could see faint traces of blood in his sick. Only then did he feel empty for just a few moments as he lay there limply on the cold bathroom floor, fighting to breathe past his terror and sobs and panic and the crushing empty loneliness that was doing its best to cripple him, and Calum had wanted to be perfect once - just like Nina did - but this was about as far from perfect as it was possible to _get_.

With that thought in mind, the dark-haired boy's choking tears fell anew and his stomach ached with pain, and Calum wanted to die but his parents were downstairs watching a game show on television. The dark-haired boy could hear the sickeningly chirpy music and the canned laughter, and Calum’s sobs were ragged as he forced himself up off the icy floor.

It was pitch black outside now and Calum’s skin had broken out in goosebumps as he crawled into bed, plunging himself into darkness with his door shut and the curtains drawn to block out the moonlight. Calum dragged his duvet up over his head, hopefully muffling his sobs as his nails raked across his tanned skin and the pain in his heart threatened to crush him.

Calum cried himself to sleep that night.

He didn’t remember what it was like to be normal anymore but maybe that wasn’t shocking.

Maybe he’d always been this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys liked this!  
> Please let me know if you thought it was okay <3  
> Thank you very much for reading ^_^


	48. Road To Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Several miles away, Michael was staring up unseeingly at the same stars and their hearts might have been beating at the same time but Calum had never felt further from Michael than he did in that moment._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck. I made this so angsty. I made this so, _so_ angsty.  
>  Oh my god, this is why I shouldn't write when I'm in a bad mood.  
> I'm fucking _evil_.  
>  Holy shit, you guys, I'm so sorry.

**_All the double-edged people and schemes._ **

**_They make a mess, then go home and get clean._ **

**_You're my best friend, and we're dancing in a world alone, a world alone._ **

**_We're all alone._ **

_\- A World Alone, Lorde_

 

Calum hadn’t been to a party since Sam from the football team had thrown one a couple of months ago. The dark-haired boy was trying his hardest not to think about that though because… because that was when Michael had kissed him with his soft hands and warm lips and hot tongue and –

 _ **No**_.

Calum couldn’t let himself think about that. Not now. Not when the two of them were maybe _almost_ okay again. He didn't think he'd be able to forgive himself if he fucked things up between them again.

Calum met Aleisha at the end of her road as they’d planned, deciding that it was better to show up together since Calum wasn’t going to know anyone else and Aleisha hated turning up alone.

“Hi, Cal,” she said as he walked up to meet her. Aleisha was standing with her back against a lamppost, dressed in a short tight-fitting navy blue dress and a black leather jacket. Her skin was the colour of pearls beneath the amber glow of the streetlight and her face looked almost heart-shaped with the way her long golden hair was tumbling down to frame it. It reminded Calum of Violet for just a second.

“You look nice,” she said, taking in his long-sleeved grey t-shirt and the ripped skinny jeans he was wearing over his boots. He’d actually tried to do his hair tonight, not particularly wanting to look terrible in front of Aleisha and Ashley’s friends, but he hadn’t been sure how well he’d done until now.

Calum smiled and his dimples creased his cheeks.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice saturated with relief. “So do you.” The soft smile on Aleisha’s dark lips made it worth it. “What did you buy Ash in the end?”

“Alcohol,” Aleisha said, raising a present bag Calum hadn’t noticed before now. “And new nail varnish. And one of those bars of Galaxy chocolate that are the size of slabs of concrete. You know the ones.” Calum rolled his eyes, smiling faintly. Aleisha bit her lip. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

“I think she’ll want to marry you,” he teased and Aleisha cracked another smile as the pair fell into step beside each other, heading towards Ashley’s house. Calum had never been there before so he didn’t know what it was like.

“What did _you_ get her in the end?” Aleisha asked and Calum shrugged, opening the present bag he was carrying to show Aleisha the small shoebox-sized container inside. He’d wrapped it in shiny purple wrapping paper and it rattled when he shook it lightly.

“What _is_ that?” Aleisha asked curiously and Calum managed a weak smile.

“I have this thing I do sometimes… for presents and stuff… Y’know, if I know a person well, right?” His cheeks were staining red but Aleisha was watching him with undisguised fondness and it did a very good job of putting him at ease. “I put, like, photos and pictures and little things in there… that remind me of them, see? Like, I put some nail varnish I saw in Ash’s box… and that picture of us we all took… and then I found some shells and some flower seeds because she was going on about it… and, like, a fuck-ton of chocolate and sweets and bath things and stuff.”

“That’s really nice, Cal!” Aleisha said and she looked genuinely touched. “You’re really thoughtful.” She bumped him gently with her elbow and he managed a tight smile as he fisted the too-long sleeves of his shirt down over his hands. “I wish more people were like you.”

“Not sure that would be a good idea,” Calum muttered and he wasn’t the only one whose face fell at those words. Her shoulders slumped suddenly and she let out a quiet sigh, and Calum wondered if _he’d_ managed to upset her.

“Are you okay, Leish?” Calum asked the blonde girl carefully but she pressed her lips together tightly, apparently unwilling to answer.

“Worried about blondie,” she mumbled after a pause but she refused to say anything more than that. Calum felt a curious mixture of relief and concern. He was glad he hadn’t hurt her but… what was wrong with Luke?

“This is Ashley’s road,” Aleisha said, interrupting Calum’s thoughts as she pointed through the darkness. Her hand was shaking and Calum laced his fingers with hers silently when she lowered her arm again. Aleisha squeezed his hand gently.

“How are you and Michael?” she asked softly and Calum felt a wave of cold wash over him but he didn’t drop her hand.

He thought about the previous weekend instead, remembered the hollow knowing in Michael’s beautiful eyes and the way he flinched… the pain on his face and his hands on Calum’s hips and how _protected_ Calum had felt with his head cushioned on Michael’s chest… how _safe_.

“I don’t know,” Calum said and his voice sounded tight now. He was trying not to think about them kissing but all he could see in his mind’s eye was the sparkle in Michael’s eye, the gentle crush of his lips against Calum as his hands settled in the small of the younger boy’s back when Calum took Michael’s tongue into his mouth and… and it shouldn’t have felt like _everything_ but that didn’t change the fact that it did.

“It’ll be okay, Cal,” Aleisha said reassuringly but she didn’t seem convinced.

Calum couldn’t quite find it in himself to care though. He’d known he was on the road to ruin for a long time. It wasn’t exactly a surprise anymore.

“That’s her house,” Aleisha said suddenly but the statement was needless. Calum could already hear the music pounding out into the night and it sent a thrill of _something_ rushing through his veins, a fire almost, burning away the anxiety and the pain until all that remained was **Calum** underneath, empty and aching and _hungry_ for things he couldn’t let himself want.

The night was dark but there were so many stars scattered across the velvet of the sky that Calum felt tiny beneath the vast expanse of nothingness overhead with Aleisha by his side.

Ashley’s house was a lot smaller than Aleisha’s; that didn’t change the fact that Ashley had apparently tried to cram her entire school year into the building though. The pounding music was even louder when Aleisha pushed the door open wider and led Calum inside.

It felt like walking into a wall of heat almost and Calum’s eyes widened at the press of bodies. He could smell alcohol and smoke and marijuana, and he could see that Aleisha was similarly stunned when he looked over at her.

“Ashley’s parents are going to _kill_ her when they get home,” she said in shock but Calum couldn’t quite gather himself enough to answer her. All he could do was gaze at the crowded room and the bottles clutched in hands, and think one thing:

‘ _I could get lost in that._ ’

“Calum? Cal, where are you going?” Aleisha called but she already sounded far away. The dark-haired boy threw a careless glance over his shoulder at her, just in time to see Aleisha elbowing her way through the crowd after him.

“I’m going to get very, _very_ drunk,” Calum said.

He stayed true to his word.

Calum grabbed a bottle of beer and he’d already drained half of it before he saw Ashley for the first time but he was on his second by the time he realised he was still holding her present and went to find somewhere to put it down. Halfway through the third bottle, Calum decided that Aleisha wasn’t drinking enough and kept trying to ply her with alcohol which – with hindsight – was probably when he managed to upset her in the first place.

“You’re not being fun,” Calum mumbled and the skin around Aleisha’s eyes tightened as she fixed him with a surprisingly cold look that did absolutely _nothing_ to hide the sadness in her face.

“You’re too drunk, Calum,” she said and, even though she just seemed to feel uneasy now, she still did her best to stick by him, like maybe she could _tell_ he needed her even though Calum kept pushing her away. She was such a good friend and Calum kind of wanted to tell her but mostly he just wanted to keep drinking.

Aleisha grabbed his hand before he could reach for a fourth bottle though and she towed him into the kitchen instead, filling a glass of water and handing it to him. Calum poured it straight in the sink. If he’d been in his right mind, he might have appreciated what she was doing but, as it was, he simply did his best to scowl at her as he gave her shoulder a weak shove, like that would encourage her to give him more alcohol.

“Why’d you hate me?” Calum demanded but his words were garbled and Aleisha looked upset as she took in how drunk he was.

“I don’t. I care about you a lot. That’s why I don’t want you to choke to death on your own puke, you dick,” Aleisha argued and her words were slightly sharper now. Calum’s laugh sounded like broken glass.

“If you _really_ cared about me you’d –”

“Let you drink yourself into a coma?” she asked but her eyes were wetter now and even in his drunken state Calum could see that. He took a hesitant step backwards, bumping into the counter hard enough that it jarred the air from his lungs. “I’m sorry I don’t want you to need a fucking stomach pump by the end of the night, arsehole.” She looked like she was seconds away from crying now and the dark-haired boy felt terrible.

“I don’t want you to be upset with me,” he whispered and there was something shining in his eyes that hinted at tears. “I’m gonna go outside,” he said, jerking his thumb towards the back garden. There were a few people milling around outside, smoking or kissing, but it looked a lot emptier than the house. At least he wouldn’t have to shout to be heard over the music.

“I’ll come with you,” Aleisha began but Calum shook his head jerkily, regretting that decision almost immediately when his head spun. _God_ , he was drunk.

“I’m going by myself,” the dark-haired boy decided because there was an idea forming in his mind now and he couldn’t stop thinking about how Michael’s lips had felt against his.

“I don’t…” Aleisha’s bottom lip was wobbling faintly and she bit down on it anxiously, messing up her plum-coloured lipstick. “Fine.” Her voice was shaky when she saw the resolve on his face. “I guess I’ll just find Ash and… see you in a bit…”

She seemed to have a bad feeling about leaving Calum as he staggered out of the back door into the garden but he couldn’t have cared less in that moment. The cool night air made his head spin sickeningly and he leant against the rough brick wall of the house as he dug his mobile phone out of the pocket of his skinny jeans.

He could hear The 1975 playing in the house now and that felt like fate almost, reminded him of that night again when Michael had gazed at Calum like he’d painted the stars in the sky… like he’d hung the _moon_.

‘ _I don’t wanna be your friend. I wanna kiss your neck._ ’

Calum’s hands were shaking when he found Michael’s number in his contact list. There was a little picture of them next to it; Calum with his arms wrapped loosely around Michael’s shoulders, Michael’s hair a vibrant green, both of their heads thrown back in laughter.

 _Fuck_ , Calum missed those days.

He hit the call button before he could overthink it but he didn’t feel as anxious as he’d expected to. Maybe it was because of how much he’d drunk but Calum couldn’t quite find it in himself to regret this. The alcohol was burning in his veins, warming him in a way that nothing else did, and his fingertip was sore from where he’d been fucking around with his lighter again.

Michael answered on only the second ring.

“Cal?” His voice was soft and rough and _beautiful_ , and Calum’s heart ached in his chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m at a party,” the younger boy told him seriously and Michael gave an awkward little laugh. Calum closed his eyes as he sank down slowly onto the flagstones covering the patio. The ground felt cold through his jeans.

“Michael,” Calum said and he spoke slowly, like he was tasting the word in his mouth. Abruptly, tears welled up in his eyes. “Michael, why aren’t you here with me?” Calum whined and he wanted more beer kind of… wanted to be sick because his stomach was churning and it was the only thing guaranteed to help for a few moments. Common sense had well and truly left the building now.

“Cal, you’re drunk,” Michael said softly and it made Calum choke on a sob, jutting his chin belligerently even though Michael couldn’t see him.

“Why’s everyone being _mean_ to me tonight?!” Calum’s voice was wobbly and slightly too high, and Michael seemed to be growing concerned. The back door slid open and a blonde girl tumbled out into the garden. Calum paid her no mind.

“Cal, do you need me to come and get you?” Michael asked in a soft voice and that sent tears boiling down Calum’s cheeks because why wasn’t Michael _here_?

“I need you, Mikey! I _always_ need you!” Calum cried and Michael’s breathing sounded ragged now, like he was scared. Calum felt ill as he drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arm around them tightly as he buried his face in the crook of his elbow. It made his words come out muffled.

“Calum?” Michael whispered and his voice sounded wet.

“Mikey, I love –”

The blonde girl snatched the phone away and Calum jerked his head up so fast that he hit the back of it on the wall. Aleisha’s eyes were apologetic but she looked determined as she held the phone to her ear.

“Is this Michael?” she asked and the older boy must have replied because she paled faintly, looking down at Calum with something that looked a lot like guilt as the dark-haired boy shuddered at the boiling tears brimming in his dark, tired eyes. “I’m really sorry about that. Calum’s fine, I promise. He’s just drunk. He doesn’t mean it.” She hesitated. “I’m – I’m his friend. I… Yeah, I’ll make sure he gets home safe. Again, I’m really sorry.”

Aleisha ended the call, locking the phone and sliding it back in Calum’s pocket for him. He was watching her with what could only be described as betrayal and the blonde girl exhaled shakily as she knelt down beside him.

“Please don’t look at me like that, Calum! You would have regretted it!” Aleisha said imploringly but Calum was sobbing now and they kept catching in his throat like he was going to be sick.

“I don’t _care_!” he cried, his voice slurred as the burning tears leaked down his flushed cheeks. “I don’t care anymore! I wanted to tell him! I wanted to _tell_ him…” His voice got softer as he spoke and he was shaking when he slumped against Aleisha’s side, letting her wrap her arms around him.

The back door slid open again and Ashley appeared, looking sweaty and flushed as the white crop top she was wearing clung to her. Calum was too drunk to appreciate it and maybe that was a good thing. He hardly needed to upset anyone _else_ today.

The cold air was beginning to clear his head a little but all thoughts of possibly sobering up went out of the metaphorical window when Ashley sat down cross-legged beside him in her high-waisted shorts, joint held between two manicured fingers, bloodshot eyes taking in the tear tracks on Calum’s cheeks and the hard line of Aleisha’s jaw.

“That’s a spliff,” Calum mumbled and Ashley held it out towards him, watching the younger boy with eyes that looked faintly concerned but mostly just glazed.

“Yeah, it is,” she agreed. “Want to try it?”

“Okay,” Calum said, accepting it. “I’m very drunk.”

“I know you are,” she said kindly.

Aleisha took one look at the spliff in his hand before her eyes welled with tears again.

“Come find me when you want to go home,” she snapped but she looked like she was crying when she stormed off and, biting her lip, Ashley ran after her, aquamarine hair tousled in the wind.

Calum just sat there, staring up at the starry sky as the sweet-smelling smoke billowed into the air through his parted lips and his heart ached in his chest.

Several miles away, Michael was staring up unseeingly at the same stars and their hearts might have been beating at the same time but Calum had never felt further from Michael than he did in that moment.

The red-haired boy was standing in his bedroom at Graham’s house, frozen by the window. He was still holding his phone against his cheek. His mouth was hanging open a little and Michael closed it with an audible snap when he realised.

‘ _I love –_ ’

“You love _what_ , Calum?” Michael breathed but he felt numb. He was shaking though, full-body tremors that he hadn’t even been aware of until now and… and _fuck_ , his skin was itching.

Michael’s phone made a dent in the plaster when he hurled it into the corner of the room.

Then he punched the wall as hard as he could, slamming his fist against it so hard that the aching pain of it took his breath away for a moment. His hand had only just healed but now it was starting to throb again and the skin around Michael’s mouth felt dry and his palms felt disgusting and… and Michael hadn’t felt this bad for a long, _long_ time.

A broken sob tore out of the red-haired boy without his permission and Michael bit down on his bottom lip hard, fighting to stay silent when he heard the television being paused downstairs.

“Mike? Are you alright up there?” Graham called cautiously and Michael squeezed his eyes shut tightly, curling his hands into fists as he took a few breaths, inhaling just deeply enough that he was sure he’d be able to reply without his voice shaking.

“I’m just going to have a shower, Gray.” Michael’s words were tight and clipped but that wasn’t necessarily any different to sometimes. It shouldn’t have been enough to cause his uncle any worry at least.

When Michael ventured out of his bedroom, he found his uncle standing hesitantly at the foot of the stairs. The nurse looked like his worst fears had been confirmed when he saw Michael standing there trembling and the sadness lingering on Graham’s face was painful.

“Was someone on the phone?” he asked quietly and Michael shuddered against the panic brewing inside of him.

“Calum,” Michael mumbled but Graham looked sympathetic now and Michael couldn’t stand it. His head was a fucking mess and he needed a shower, needed to wash away his pain and his fear and his worries with scalding water, until Michael was burning so much with it that everything else seemed insignificant.

Michael stalked off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him even though he knew he shouldn’t take this out on his uncle… on Graham who had never been anything but kind to him.

Michael cried in the shower, even though he hated to admit it, even to _himself_. He cried and cried and cried, only struggling to get ahold of himself when his lungs protested their lack of air and he slumped back against the cold tiles in the shower, fighting for breath.

Michael’s thoughts were a painful roar in his head and he shuddered when his knees gave way, sending him half-falling onto the floor of the shower as the lukewarm water washed around him. Michael’s hands balled into fists but his bruised knuckles were aching and it made his eyes burn with fresh tears.

He wanted to cry and scream until his lungs hurt, until his tears ran dry and his throat closed around his sobs. He wanted to punch and kick things until he couldn’t feel anything anymore, until his knuckles broke and the skin split and his trembling hands _finally_ stopped fucking shaking all the time.

Michael wanted to throw himself on the floor until he stopped shivering, until he stopped feeling like he was going to be torn apart by the pent-up emotions surging inside of him like a storm – anger, hurt, sadness, betrayal, fear, **love**.

Michael wanted to hurt everything because _everything_ was hurting him and he couldn’t take it anymore, but Michael couldn’t do that so he’d just have to keep right on pretending that everything was still okay instead.

Michael felt numb when he staggered out of the shower a while later, when the hot water had run cold and the red hair dye started to seep down his ashen face like washed-out blood.

Graham was in his bedroom when Michael left the bathroom in his towel, using the guise of putting his clean washing away as he watched his nephew pass the open doorway with poorly-disguised concern.

“Mate?” Graham asked softly and Michael managed not to flinch but it was very close.

“I’m okay,” Michael said firmly. He tried not to snap… tried not to sink down onto the floor and fucking _sob_ and… and somehow he managed it.

Somehow he made it back to his room before he lost control again.

Michael hated everything about this; hated that Graham was worried, that Calum was hurting… hated the realisation that being seen as the strong one meant that no one would offer Michael a helping hand.

 _Fuck_ , Michael was screwed.

His eyes burnt with tears but the glass of the open window was cold when he let his forehead fall to rest against it.

He tried to breathe out all of his pain and fear into the night sky outside but it didn’t work.

Michael could feel it decaying inside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologise for... this...  
> Please let me know what you thought though!  
> I really hope you liked it <3


	49. Bear Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _“I didn’t want to like Mikey. I_ still _don’t.”_  
>  _At times like this, Calum kind of felt like maybe he was never going to stop crying… like perhaps the sadness would never end. He saw the same realisation on Ashton’s face as the older boy cradled his face gently, uselessly trying to brush the tears away as more followed._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the easiest chapter ever to write.  
> I think there's something wrong with me wow.

**_Don’t panic._ **

**_No, not yet._ **

**_I know I’m the one you want to forget._ **

**_Cue all the love to leave my heart._ **

**_It’s time for me to fall apart._ **

_\- Miss Missing You, Fall Out Boy_

 

Things were awkward in the week following the drunken phone call and Calum wasn’t exactly surprised. Aleisha had been pissed off with him for _days_ and Michael kept getting this look in his eye whenever Calum caught the older boy watching him in class, like Michael was crumbling kind of but didn’t know how to fix it. He made up for it by being louder and ruder than usual though, and he was too thorny for anyone to get close anymore.

That was why Calum was so surprised when Michael invited him and Ashton to stay over at Graham’s house for the night. If Michael hadn’t already told Calum that he was living with his uncle, this definitely would have made him suspicious although apparently the same couldn’t be said for Ashton. He looked too tired and grim-faced to notice much of anything at the moment.

The dark-haired boy wondered what was going on with him and Luke… and then he remembered Aleisha and forced himself to stop caring.

Calum turned up later than the time they’d originally planned, even if it _was_ only a fifteen minute walk. It gave him a chance to smoke though and he called Aleisha, spoke to her briefly on the phone because he still felt bad for the party and figured she was way more than he deserved.

“Stop being so hard on yourself, Cal,” the blonde girl said but she sounded tired and strained. Calum heard the soft sound of her exhaling as she smoked on the other end of the phone. “I know things are hard for you right now… and you were drunk. We all do things we regret when we’re drunk.”

“But I pushed you,” Calum whispered and his eyes burnt faintly as he walked along beneath the streetlights. Aleisha was quiet for a moment; the only sounds were her breathing and the crackle of the wind over the phone.

“I still love you, idiot. You’re one of my best friends.”

Calum smiled so unexpectedly that his eyes crinkled as his dimples creased his cheeks.

“You love me,” he repeated, like a complete dick. “I’m one of your best friends.”

“Congratulations, Calum. You sound like a parrot,” Aleisha said coolly but there was a tiny smile in her voice and Calum knew he was in the clear. “Now go away. Go and have fun tonight. Try not to do something you’ll regret.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Calum muttered but he sighed deeply because he knew she was right. Calum waited until Aleisha was about to hang up before he said: “I love you too, Leish. We’re like BFFs.”

“Oh my god – _goodnight_ , Calum,” Aleisha said wryly but she sounded happier when she ended the call. Calum hoped she’d be alright.

Graham’s car wasn’t in the driveway when Calum walked towards the front door but the lights were on in the spare room upstairs and Calum saw Ashton’s face appear briefly in the window when Calum rang the doorbell. He looked tired but his cheeks were flushed, like he’d been drinking. Calum felt anticipation colouring his face.

“Hey, Cal,” Michael said – somewhat warily – when he opened the door. “You doing okay?” The red-haired boy looked concerned enough that Calum wondered what he looked like.

“I’m good,” Calum said but it was obviously a lie. His head already felt like a mess and he’d only been there for about a minute. “Is this going to be awkward, Mike?” He sounded tired and lost, and the tiny voice he spoke in annoyed Calum. Michael just looked sad.

“I don’t want it to be,” the older boy said quietly after a moment of hesitation. Calum nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Then we’ll be fine.”

And then Calum went upstairs and saw all the alcohol.

Relief washed over him and he shot Michael an appraising look as Ashton sat back against the edge of the bed, leaving room on the blanket-covered floor for the other two boys. Apparently Michael had been stashing the alcohol for a while because there was a small mountain of beer bottles standing nearby.

“Nice,” Calum said approvingly and Michael looked pleased with himself.

Maybe they’d have fun after all.

Calum reached for a beer and Michael turned the music up, and Ashton sat there watching them like he did sometimes, half-empty bottle clutched in his large hands as his hazel eyes drifted around the room. Ashton always seemed to be watching and noticing things but he didn’t say very much and Calum figured maybe that was why he got overlooked so much at school.

Calum didn’t know how he felt about Ashton anymore. He still loved him like a brother but his feelings were decidedly mixed when he saw the faintest hint of a hickey on the side of his neck, obviously left by Luke.

Aleisha didn’t deserve their shit and Calum fucking _loved_ Aleisha.

God, he needed to get drunk. It didn’t matter that it had ended badly last time. Calum wanted to make sure he’d feel comfortable enough to sleep and he didn’t care that it was probably a slippery slope to drink like that. He just needed to forget for a little while.

He needed not to _feel_ -

But because he was focusing so much on _not_ thinking about how he felt for Michael, it only stood to reason that that was the only thing in his head when he finished his second beer.

There was a buzz in Calum’s veins and he kind of loved it, relishing the feeling because it reminded him of when he was with Aleisha and Ashley; just the three of them against the world with Aleisha’s booze and Ashley’s joints, and good music diluting all of the shit happening around them.

Calum was so lost in the memories that it took him a moment to notice that Michael was gazing at him again, emerald green eyes burning into Calum’s. Ashton looked faintly uncomfortable but he was so quiet that he almost faded into the background as he sat there with his two best friends.

Calum always felt more _alive_ when he was drunk. The warmth of the alcohol bubbling through his veins made him forget how fat he was and it calmed his frayed nerves as his head began to feel pleasantly fuzzy.

“I think you might have had enough now, Cal,” Ashton murmured when Calum reached for a third beer and the looks the two older boys were sending the football captain might have been anxious.

Michael was drunk too though – Calum could see it in the slightly glazed look in his eyes and the way he kept licking his lips as he watched him – and Calum forced himself to make a joke, to laugh louder than he normally would in an effort to distract them… to make them feel like maybe Calum would be alright after all, if only for the night.

Calum’s plan didn’t work out very well though. All he could think about was Michael with his messy red hair and his eyebrow piercing and the soft moue of his lips as he watched Calum awkwardly and… and the words were out of Calum’s mouth before he could stop them.

“Do you still love me, Mikey?”

Ashton inhaled sharply. Michael froze.

“Cal?” he breathed. Calum’s dark eyes flickered down to Michael’s lips and the older boy swallowed audibly. His eyes shone with what might have been tears but they remained fixed on Calum’s face with a desperation that bordered on _need_. “Calum, stop it,” Michael said but it sounded like ‘ _come closer_ ’. “Cal, what are you –?”

Ashton looked faintly panic-stricken from beside them but Calum had eyes only for Michael as he crawled over the blankets, moving slowly because his eyes were burning with tears. Michael’s teeth sank into his full bottom lip for a moment but he looked scared as he glanced towards Ashton helplessly.

Then his emerald green eyes were locked back on Calum’s face again and it felt like the younger boy had stopped breathing.

“You’re drunk,” Michael pleaded and Calum might have felt bad if Michael’s words hadn’t been true… if he hadn’t been so drunk and exhausted that he was _aching_. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

‘ _I know exactly what I’m doing_ ,’ Calum thought in disagreement with his eyes still fixed on Michael. The older boy looked stunned when he held his gaze, like maybe he could tell what Calum was thinking. ‘ _And I’m thinking that I want to kiss you. Maybe I only needed an excuse._ ’

The need for deniability was great though and, through the drunken haze in Calum’s head, he knew he was being a fucking idiot. This was selfish and stupid, and fit directly into Aleisha’s category of ‘ _Something You’ll Regret_ ’.

Michael’s tongue darted out to wet his lips almost unconsciously though and Calum was _so_ close to him now, even though this felt dangerous and insane, but Calum needed this… even though it was going to hurt them both. Even then.

No one moved to stop him and the dark-haired boy thought that maybe that said quite a lot about how fucked up the entire situation was as he finally reached Michael. Calum swallowed past his revulsion, past his love, past his pain…

‘ _Feel, don’t think_.’

“ **Girls** ,” Calum whispered but the tip of his nose bumped against Michael’s and the red-haired boy’s breath escaped him in a gasp, like his best friend had punched him in the stomach. Calum forced himself to think of Aleisha and Ashley and Violet but he _felt_ Michael; felt his lips against Calum’s, felt Michael’s eyelashes fluttering shut, felt his hands falling to tangle with Calum’s as a tiny sound tore out of the older boy.

Calum’s heart ached when he pulled away but he kept his eyes shut too as his chest heaved.

“I like girls,” Calum whispered and it wasn’t a lie but… but it felt like one.

Calum wondered if his words counted as plausible deniability when his heart felt like it wasn’t beating if Michael’s lips weren’t touching his.

“What the fuck?” the red-haired boy breathed, so quietly that maybe Ashton didn’t hear, but Michael was staring at Calum like he’d been betrayed, like his beautiful tear-wet eyes were screaming: ‘ _Calum, how could you?!_ ’ because he couldn’t take being hurt again.

Calum’s anxiety snapped white-hot around his lungs like a bear trap. Ashton was staring at Calum in what essentially amounted to horror and Michael’s fingers had drifted up to touch his lips and… and Calum’s panic attack hit him like a freight train. He barely processed what was happening as he begged a stunned Ashton to take him home but his eyes were blurring with tears and Calum’s voice was several octaves too high, and he kept almost falling as the older boy dragged him out of the house, his legs wobbling under him because he never knew how much he could get away with drinking on an empty stomach but –

But – but – _but_ –

Calum didn’t think he could function without messing something up anymore. They’d left a shell-shocked Michael sitting slumped on his bedroom floor and Calum could see it in his mind’s eye as his breath tore out of him painfully, his fingers tightening where they were knotted in Ashton’s sleeve as the cold night air made Calum’s head reel.

All Calum could think about was that night at the party when Michael had kissed _him_ instead… when he’d told Calum he loved him… and then when he’d said no to Calum’s offer the next day… when he’d rejected Calum because he hadn’t understood and… and, dimly, Calum became aware that he was talking out loud, realised because Ashton was staring at him with shocked, hollow eyes as Calum’s tears fell even now.

“He stared at me for ages and then he _kissed_ me, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, he told me he loved me straight after,” Calum whispered but he sounded numb. He wanted a cigarette but the pack was squashed in the pocket of his jeans and he was too dizzy to stop and reach for them now. He didn’t want to fall down but _god_ , his stomach was churning with nausea and he was going to be _so_ fucking sick tomorrow.

Thank god.

“I said we could try…” Calum gave a tiny, self-deprecating laugh and Ashton’s face crumpled like he was trying not to cry… like Calum’s words hurt _him_ too. “Mike said no though. Said it wasn’t fair on me.”

Calum stopped walking for a moment, flinging his head back stupidly to gaze up at the stars and groaning when it made his head swim. The sky was cloudy though and no starlight shone down.

“I didn’t know it at the time but now I can see it and…” Calum's voice trailed away for a moment. “I don’t know how to tell him that nothing has ever _been_ fairer.”

‘ _Because I love him_ ,’ Calum finished silently and his tears were bitter as they streamed down his cheeks. ‘ _God, I can’t fucking take this anymore._ ’

Ashton was watching Calum helplessly like he didn’t know what to say but it didn’t really matter; maybe Calum didn’t deserve the comfort anyway.

The dark-haired boy felt weaker now, a mixture of alcohol on an empty stomach and the dizziness that almost always accompanied him these days, and Calum’s voice was faint and tearful when he whispered: “I didn’t want to like Mikey. I _still_ don’t.”

At times like this, Calum kind of felt like maybe he was never going to stop crying… like perhaps the sadness would never end. He saw the same realisation on Ashton’s face as the older boy cradled his face gently, uselessly trying to brush the tears away as more followed.

Calum had never realised it before but, standing this close to him, Ashton looked stronger than he had done before. His hazel eyes looked steely and his jaw was squared, and the dark-haired boy hoped that meant Ashton was getting better.

Calum wished _he_ knew how to do that.

Ashton was slim too, something _else_ Calum was jealous of. The dark-haired boy watched him with empty eyes but he shook the thoughts away when he noticed Ashton watching him uneasily, tears brimming in his eyes too.

“Will you be okay, Cal?” Ashton asked but he sounded choked up and he’d wrapped his arms around himself, like if he just held on tightly enough then he might be able to keep his sobs locked away.

“I always am, Ashy,” Calum said and he laughed at that, the shaky sound sad in the quiet. God, he was drunk. He was _so_ fucking drunk. “I _always_ am.”

Calum shook his head to clear it but it just made him feel dizzier and he shuddered at the nausea rising inside him, struggling to get his keys from his pocket before he unlocked the front door with difficulty. He heard his cigarettes crumpling in his jeans and Calum mumbled a curse beneath his breath as he finally got the door open, half-falling into the hallway. It was dark inside, silent. His parents were presumably already asleep.

Calum chanced a glance over his shoulder at Ashton but the curly-haired boy was gazing down the road towards Michael’s old house, a faint frown creasing his brow. Calum shut the door quietly behind him, turning the key in the lock before he staggered down the hallway and up the stairs.

It didn’t occur to him in his drunken state to turn the light on or get a glass of water, and Calum was fairly certain he’d trampled mud into the carpet but his parents could shout at him tomorrow for it.

The moonlight was faint through the clouds but Calum saw it shining through a gap in the curtains in the hallway upstairs and he faltered there, clutching the banister as he stared at it. He hadn’t come home this late at night before but Mali used to do it all the time and Calum wondered if she’d ever done this, hesitating and staring at the silvery light as her breath rasped from her lungs and her pulse thundered in her ears.

Calum felt like he was underwater when he fell into his bedroom in the darkness.

He pushed his bedroom window open so wide that the air quickly became freezing but Calum found the cold comforting for once because it cooled the embarrassed flush that the alcohol and his stupidly reckless actions had brought to his skin.

Calum’s head was spinning even worse when he decided to lie down on his bedroom floor but he didn’t let it bother him anymore. His shoes were still on and his jacket was in the doorway, wedged between the door and the frame so that it wasn’t shut properly. Calum’s curtains swayed in the breeze as he reached into his pocket for his lighter and the crumpled pack of cigarettes.

Calum jammed one between his lips, lighting it clumsily before he just lay there on the floor, mesmerised as he watched the flame flickering idly to life. Briefly, Calum wondered what would happen if he set fire to his duvet, just because it was there and he was world-weary… but Calum was too tired for pointless arson probably.

Calum inhaled raggedly, breathing out the smoke as the tears continued to roll down his cheeks and dry on his skin, sticky and unpleasant.

He’d get told off the next day if his parents smelt the smoke or the alcohol on him but, right now, Calum couldn’t have cared less. He just focused on the burning in his lungs and the subtle trembling of his fingers instead, finally letting his dark eyes fall shut.

Mali’s bedroom was empty beside his and his parents didn’t care anymore.

The realisation came to Calum out of nowhere and his eyes stung with tears behind their lids.

Calum finished his cigarette silently, thought about stubbing it out on his skin before he gave up and pressed it into the carpet beneath his bed instead. It burnt a hole in it and Calum felt oddly satisfied as he lay there in the pitch black on the floor, too bone-tired to drag himself up into bed even though he wanted to be there, hidden beneath the covers where he was safe from the world.

Calum wanted to cut too and that was easier. He’d hidden the razor blade in his desk drawer and he could reach that from where he was lying now.

Calum fumbled around for a few moments before his fingers encountered the cold metal and he brought it back, holding it up in front of him and twisting it so that it caught the moonlight.

That one tiny bit of metal could kill him. It was a strange thought.

Calum’s heart felt like it was beating sluggishly in his chest but the alcohol was finally doing what Calum had wanted. His exhaustion was washing over him like the ocean now.

Calum cut himself only once, dragging it across the tanned skin of his wrist before he let his arm fall down limply onto the carpet. Calum wiped the blade on his jeans and hid it back in the drawer again, and then he rolled over onto his side and squinted through the darkness as he watched the blood congealing. Then Calum pulled the sleeve of his shirt back down and lost himself in the sting of it.

He thought about Nina as he lay there, pictured her whirling through the shadows with her head raised, dark eyes desperate as she swept her arms in a graceful arc above her head. Calum’s roaring thoughts changed to the swell of music and his carpet felt soft against his cheek.

The dark-haired boy’s wet eyes fell shut and his breathing gradually calmed as the tears falling finally slowed.

Calum passed out on his bedroom floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading - please let me know what you thought <3


	50. The Heart Of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _He hadn’t seen Michael since Friday with his messy red hair and the dark blue plaid shirt he’d been wearing over a Slipknot t-shirt and ripped jeans. The sun had been shining on that day too and he’d looked so goddamn beautiful with his sparkling eyes and soft lips and… and fuck, Calum had fallen head-over-heels in love with him._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I feel like now is a good time to say that I really don’t condone all of the drinking, smoking and illegal substances in this fic. I’ve just done a lot of research because I want them to be accurate. But yeah, be safe, guys. Look after yourselves.  
> Okay I’m going to go back to writing now, sorry.  
> (Also, we're on chapter 50! Yay!)

**_I wanna drink until I ache._ **

**_I wanna make a big mistake._ **

**_I want blood, guts and angel cake;_ **

**_I’m gonna puke it anyway._ **

_\- Teen Idle, Marina & The Diamonds_

 

“Maybe you should just stop drinking,” Ashley said. Calum scoffed, throwing a handful of dry grass in her general direction.

They were lying in the older girl’s back garden and the sun was burning down from its place high in the sky. It was midday but Calum had only been awake for a few hours. His empty stomach was twisting itself into knots.

“I’m not gonna stop drinking,” Calum said and he didn’t realise how unhealthy those words sounded until they were out of his mouth. Then he remembered that he spent quite a lot of time making himself sick and he figured that maybe it didn’t matter anymore.

“Well… just don’t drink when you’re with _Michael_ then,” Ashley suggested but she looked lost.

“I wasn’t with Michael at your party the other week,” Calum muttered but he sounded sullen now and _god_ , he’d made such a fucking mess of things.

“Well, we let you have your phone. Next time we’ll have to hide it somewhere so you can stop shooting yourself in the damn bollocks,” she said fiercely. Calum raised an eyebrow, watching her somewhat warily.

“I think the phrase is ‘shooting yourself in the foot’,” he said and Ashley told him where he could stick it with a cheerful: “Fuck you, gorgeous.”

Calum sighed, slumping down onto his back on the parched grass as the sun threatened to burn his skin. He wondered if Michael was gazing up at the sky now too. He wondered what he was doing.

They were still talking, making awkward comments in the hallways at school whenever gaps in the conversation made themselves apparent but the tension was back again and –

Calum spluttered when a handful of grass suddenly landed on his face.

“You were thinking about him again,” Ashley said, fixing Calum with a hard stare as the breeze ruffled her aquamarine hair. “I can tell. Your eyes go all big and you start biting your lip.”

“Shut up! No, I don’t!” Calum argued. He tried to throw another load of grass at her but the wind blew it back into his face and some went in his mouth. Ashley clapped her hands delightedly.

“ _When you try your best but you don’t succeed_ ,” she began to sing dramatically, apparently thrilled by her hilarious joke if the sparkling of her eyes was any indication. Calum pushed himself into a sitting position and jammed his fingers into his ears, trying to look as dignified as he could.

Hanging out with Ashley always made him feel better because he didn’t have to think about anything since she didn’t seem to take much seriously but, for the same reason, it was fucking exhausting. She seemed to be being extra especially annoying today too, what with her questionable rendition of Coldplay. Calum fixed her with what he hoped was a hard stare.

She smiled like she could tell it was annoying him.

“My parents are out. You want to smoke some more weed?” she asked and the question was so surprising that Calum found himself agreeing without really thinking about it. He couldn’t remember what he’d thought of it at the party, just the taste and the coughs racking his body before he got used to it.

“Sure,” he said and she flashed him a big smile that could have put Mali’s to shame as she pushed herself up off the ground, brushing dried grass from her bare thighs as she danced across the garden. She was wearing denim shorts and a crop top that tied at the front that Calum was fairly certain belonged to Aleisha, and he’d barely had time to get sad about that night at the party again when Ashley returned with that same grin etched onto her face.

She was holding a jam jar filled with weed and Calum rolled his eyes at the jubilant look on her face.

“Did you _really_ decorate the outside of that damn jar with sequins, Ash?” he demanded but he was kind of laughing now… laughing to hold back the darkness. “Who the hell’s going to see it?!”

“You. Me. My parents if they ever decide they care enough to come check on me.” She winked to show she was joking but there was a hollowness to her eyes underneath all the bluster that kind of hurt to look at. Ashley shrugged, rolling her eyes at him. “Not Leish though. _She_ doesn’t like it.”

Calum’s eyes were fixed on the jam jar. He’d used to hate it too. He wondered what had happened.

“You know how to roll a joint?”

“Of course I do!” She looked faintly offended. “And it’s called a blunt if it’s pure marijuana, Cal,” Ashley said, rolling her eyes at him again as she dropped down into the grass beside him. She had papers and filters in her hand, and he could see the outline of a lighter in her pocket. “A joint’s when you mix it with tobacco.”

“Right," Cal said, biting his full bottom lip as he watched her preparing it. “Silly me.”

Ashley’s fingers were deft as she prepared it and Calum watched her, trying hard not to get distracted by his intruding thoughts as the sun warmed the back of his neck.

He hadn’t seen Michael since Friday with his messy red hair and the dark blue plaid shirt he’d been wearing over a Slipknot t-shirt and ripped jeans. The sun had been shining on that day too and he’d looked so goddamn beautiful with his sparkling eyes and soft lips and… and fuck, Calum had fallen head-over-heels in love with him.

This wasn’t going to go away on its own.

“Here you go, gorgeous,” she said and her dark eyes were glittering when Calum took the blunt. She lit the little twisted bit of paper at the end and Calum inhaled, fighting against the coughs building in his chest as his eyes prickled.

“Tastes a bit like broccoli,” he mumbled, passing it back to her. Ashley lay a hand over her heart, looking more than vaguely offended now.

“So I’m guessing you don’t want any more then?” she asked but the weird taste was already fading and Calum watched as she took a drag herself.

“I didn’t say that,” he said, making grabby hands for it. Ashley smiled as she passed it to him.

The sun was shining even brighter overhead and the bright blue sky was almost cloudless. Calum was starting to feel _strange_ and he wondered if it was the placebo effect until he saw it mirrored back at him in the older girl’s eyes. Calum’s muscles felt loose and soft, like _jelly_ almost, and a slow easy smile spread over Ashley’s face as she watched him. Her eyes looked faintly bloodshot and Calum wondered if he looked the same… wondered if he still looked empty.

It was hard to be sad when the sun was smiling down at him from the sky like that… hard to be sad when Ashley’s smile proved infectious and the grass felt soft beneath his head as they flopped down together, lying side by side.

Calum could almost forget about his parents not caring; about Mali off in Canberra somewhere with her mysterious _Harry_ and her new friend Melanie; about Ashton and Luke cheating behind Aleisha’s back; about the almost-constant worries plaguing him as his empty stomach twisted…

But not Michael.

Calum could _never_ forget Michael.

Ashley reached out slowly and poked Calum on the nose, swiping the blunt from him when he was distracted. Calum pouted at her, the grass tickling his cheek, his eyelashes dark when he half-closed his eyes against the bright sunlight, squinting at her.

“Give it back,” he said slowly but he felt like he was underwater almost. His stomach was still knotting though and he was kind of hungry now… starving almost.

“It’s gone now,” Ashley said and she gave him this big smile as she ran a hand through her mess of blueish-green hair. “But there are cookies in the house. You want cookies, gorgeous?”

Calum looked at her with his dark, bloodshot eyes but his anxiety had left his system now, fluttering away like butterflies on the sunny day.

“Sure. I’d like that,” Calum said because he really _was_ getting hungry now.

“You have the munchies,” Ashley said when she saw him looking down at his stomach in confusion. She patted his cheek when he looked up at her and Calum beamed, dimples cutting across his cheeks.

“Weed is weird,” Calum declared, giggling into his hands as he followed her into the shady house. Ashley shushed him even though no one else was home. Calum shushed her back, tripping over the edge of the door mat as he followed her into the kitchen.

“Let me get the cookies,” Ashley said, scrambling up onto the counter and kneeling there as she opened the cupboard door with difficulty, searching for the tin.

Calum’s head felt fuzzy and he gripped the edge of the counter hard, frowning down at where Ashley had painted his nails again when he’d turned up. It was messy this time though and Calum figured he’d have to look for some nail varnish remover in the bathroom at home. His father would be furious if he saw it.

“Found them!” Ashley said suddenly and she almost fell in her haste to climb down off the counter. “Look, gorgeous,” she said, waving her chocolate chip cookies in his face. “White chocolate. _Look_.”

“Nice,” Calum said reverently and the cookies were reminding him of that day in the café with Michael but Calum fought against it. He really _did_ want to eat one… Maybe more than one.

“Thank you,” Calum said gratefully when she passed him one, sinking down into a chair at the kitchen table and grinning when she dropped down opposite him. The cookie tasted amazing when Calum started to eat it, all chocolatey and sugary and fucking _incredible_ , and he kind of moaned a tiny bit when he took the first bite.

Ashley giggled.

“You sound like you’re having sex,” she said and Calum rolled his eyes at her, cramming another bit of cookie into his mouth. He was even _more_ hungry now that he was actually eating something, like once he’d started he couldn’t stop.

“I really wouldn’t know,” Calum replied, finishing his cookie and watching her so hopefully that she passed him another one. The weed was making Calum feel comfortably laid back and he couldn’t even feel any nervousness when he started to eat that one too.

God, he should have tried this _years_ ago.

“Have you ever _had_ sex before?” Ashley asked with a slight frown on her face.

Apparently Calum had said too much and his cheeks heated faintly but he kept his dark eyes fixed on the cookie.

“Almost… but no…” Calum didn’t like talking about that night. It had been some stupid drunken party two years back and it had felt great at the time, right up until Calum had remembered his best friend was sitting out there in the living room waiting for him to come back… right up until Calum had thought about _Michael_.

“Why?” he asked, keen to distract her. “Have you?”

Ashley laughed but it was a thoroughly humourless sound. She grabbed another cookie, taking a big bite out of it and watching her friend morosely.

“Yeah,” she told him. That same hollow look flared up in her eyes again. “Tons of times.”

“You don’t like it?” Calum asked, biting his lip. Ashley shrugged, fiddling with one of the sleeves of her crop top so that it would sit right.

“Sometimes. When I’m high.” She gave a snort of laughter when Calum looked up at her with confusion blossoming on his face. “Weed makes some people horny. Probably should have mentioned it. Whoops.”

“That’s mean,” Calum said but he was still eating the cookie, licking his fingers clean and debating the pros of eating a third. His eyes felt funny in his head and his mouth was dry. He could still taste that strange smoke lingering on his tongue.

“Stop looking at my boobs, Cal,” Ashley said and Calum blinked, jerking his head up at her. He hadn’t even realised he’d looked down.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, cheeks flaming. It got Calum thinking about sex though, got him thinking about Michael with his burning eyes and the feeling of his hips beneath Calum’s hands; reminded Calum of how good Michael’s thighs looked in skinny jeans and those few times Calum had been lucky enough to see the older boy shirtless.

When Calum realised that he’d thought about Michael before he thought of _girls_ when he was turned on, it just made everything feel more hopeless somehow.

“It’s okay,” Ashley said and Calum forced his reddened eyes back to her face. “I wore this top so you would.”

That pulled Calum up short.

“ _Really_?” he asked and her cheeks heated.

“Kind of,” she mumbled, crumbling what remained of her cookie between her fingers. Calum watched the crumbs fall.

“Oh,” he said slowly, unsure of what to do. The younger boy chewed on his full bottom lip, frowning out into the sunny garden. There would be ants crawling through the blades and Calum found himself looking for them, even though there was no way he’d be able to see them from here. He was starting to get a headache. “I’m sorry, Ash,” he said at last. “I like Mikey.”

“I know you do,” she said quietly.

Calum picked up another cookie so that he’d have something to do with his hands but his heart wasn’t in it anymore. The chocolate was coating his tongue and Calum’s stomach was churning, unused to being so full so quickly after he’d spent such a long time trying to avoid as much food as possible.

He was nibbling at the edge of his third cookie when Ashley’s sad eyes settled on his face. “I’ve never seen you eat before,” she realised suddenly and Calum felt cold.

He dropped the cookie on the table through limp fingers, jerking his head up to look at her with fear evident in his eyes. Ashley looked worried, faintly _frightened_ almost and… and Calum felt sick.

He could feel it making him fat almost, as strange as that probably sounded. He could feel rolls and rolls of it settling on his stomach, on his wobbly thighs and… and _fuck_ , his stomach was _heaving_ and he didn’t even remember where the damn bathroom was but Calum pushed himself away from the table anyway, stumbling down the hallway on shaky legs as the acid burnt in his throat.

Ashley’s voice sounded empty when she called out: “Third door on the left.”

Calum barely got the bathroom door shut behind him before he was dropping down onto his knees, tears blurring his vision, acid burning his mouth as his fingernails scraped his throat.

Dimly, Calum knew that this was a bad idea. This was fucking _stupid_ because now there was no chance on earth that Ashley would keep this secret. He should have just waited until he got home but it felt like the longer the food sat in his stomach, the fatter Calum became.

He was crying when his stomach finally stopped emptying itself and he sat back shakily on his heels, letting his burning forehead fall to rest against the cool porcelain of the seat.

Ashley was standing in the hallway when Calum opened the door warily a few minutes later. She looked pale and her red-rimmed eyes were swimming with tears.

“How long, Cal?” she whispered and the fact that she’d dropped the nickname hurt even more than her finding out almost.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Calum whispered but his cheeks were blotchy and red, and he was still crying.

“Cal, I never –”

“Don’t!” Calum’s eyes were too wide but he was shuddering as he wrapped his arms tightly around himself. “Ashley, _please_! You’ve got it wrong! I didn’t –”

“I won’t tell Leish,” she said softly, cutting to the heart of it. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t want you to _know_ ,” Calum whispered but his head was still fucking spinning and he couldn’t get his breathing back under control as a sob tore out of him.

“You need to get some sleep… Have a shower or something before you go home.” Ashley's voice wobbled and she leant heavily against the wall, like finding out had aged her. Calum’s eyes burnt hotter.

“I need to go _home_ ,” he whispered but the tears in his eyes boiled over when she pulled him into a tight hug because she was wearing the same perfume as _Mali_.

The dark-haired boy ran out of the house with tears blinding him and his breath ripping painfully from his lungs.

Calum wished he didn’t have to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was much more angsty than I planned and also Ashley just kind of wouldn't be written the way I wanted so I decided to just roll with it.  
> Fingers crossed this was okay and thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought <3
> 
> If everything goes to plan (which barely ever happens with me, let's be real) then all this tension Malum are feeling at the moment is going to result in something slightly different next time...  
> I wonder if anyone will guess. :P


	51. Sparks Flew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _It felt strange, being able to think about Calum without pain. Maybe Michael was too far gone for that though, whether asleep or in love… Maybe it didn’t even matter anymore._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid I got somewhat waylaid and the weird tension-y stuff is probably next time instead. But I couldn't help writing this one. It’s weirdly cathartic (at least for me) and slightly fluffy and I couldn’t get it out of my head. It just felt necessary.  
> I heard my little sister singing this song and it just got me thinking... and then naturally I applied it to this fic because that's all I'm trying to keep in my head right now. It distracts me.  
> I hope you guys will enjoy this. <3

**_Oh, lights go down._ **

**_In the moment we're lost and found._ **

**_I just wanna be by your side,_ **

**_If these wings could fly._ **

**_Oh, damn these walls._ **

**_In the moment we're ten feet tall,_ **

**_And how you told me after it all,_ **

**_We'd remember tonight,_ **

**_For the rest of our lives._ **

_\- Wings, Birdy_

 

Michael felt calmer than he had in a long time.

Graham had found some books on OCD for them to have a look through, full of exercises and tips that might help Michael. The books talked about exercise (which Michael could take or leave) and different relaxation methods that apparently went a long way to helping take the focus off of problematic thoughts, and quite honestly, Michael was ready to try anything.

He still had an elastic band on his wrist and Graham was still there, walking along beside him in the darkness, even when it felt like everything was getting to be too much.

“You’re going to be okay, Mikey.”

Graham said that whenever he saw that faraway look darkening Michael’s eyes. He squeezed his nephew’s shoulder gently and tapped the elastic band with his fingertip to remind the red-haired boy that it was there, and Michael felt some of the hopelessness inside him dissipating.

With Graham there, Michael felt so much safer.

They’d ordered pizza for dinner that night and they sat eating it on the sofa, plates balanced on their knees as they watched the fourth Harry Potter film. The curtains were drawn to block out the streetlights outside and the lamplight in the room was soft.

Michael had had a shower before dinner so his hair was damp and he was shivering a little bit when he finally finished his food. Graham dragged the thick-knitted blanket from the back of the sofa and covered Michael with it, suppressing his smile when his nephew made a soft content sound and snuggled down like a little cat, letting his head fall to rest on his uncle’s shoulder as his green eyes drooped shut.

Harry was battling Voldemort in the graveyard onscreen but Michael wasn’t awake enough to watch it anymore. Graham’s smile was gentle when he hit pause, freezing Harry as the killing curse lit up his face and the sparks flew as their spells collided.

“Time to get some sleep?” Graham suggested mildly when Michael jerked his head up, blinking sleepily as his red hair stuck up in all directions. He probably should have brushed it before it had dried or at the very least combed his fingers through it. He kind of looked like Sonic now.

“Good idea,” Michael mumbled, rising unsteadily with the blanket still draped around his shoulders. Unexpectedly, Graham pulled Michael into a tight hug and the red-haired boy went with it, curling his hands into fists just like always as he tucked his face away. He didn’t know what had brought the hug on – maybe Graham had seen something vulnerable in his nephew’s face – but Michael didn’t mind.

Graham didn’t make him feel like he was getting in the way; he made him feel _wanted_.

“C’mon, mate,” Graham said quietly, setting the blanket back on the sofa before he followed Michael out of the room and up the stairs. It couldn’t have been later than half nine but Graham had had an early shift and Michael was _exhausted_ tonight.

“I’m gonna have a quick shower,” Graham said when he spotted Michael frowning at him as he walked away from his bedroom. His nephew’s expression cleared but Michael looked _small_ as he hesitated in the semi-darkness, like being taken care of made him feel younger than he was.

“Will you come and say goodnight?” Michael asked, soft and quiet. Graham’s expression was gentle.

“Of course, Mikey. Go get tucked in though. It’s freezing out here.”

Michael padded into his room, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of the jumper he was wearing as he yawned. The curtains in his room were already pulled shut and Michael climbed into bed quickly, tucking his feet beneath the duvet and frowning faintly when the sheets still felt cold.

Michael curled up into a ball, wrapping one of his arms around himself while he tucked the other beneath the pillow as he waited to feel warmer. He could hear the soft sounds of Graham showering and cleaning his teeth in the bathroom before he came in just like he’d promised.

“You sleeping yet, mate?” Graham asked softly from the doorway. He was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt now, and his hair was a ruffled mess from where he’d towelled it dry. He looked a lot more like his nephew like this.

“Nope,” Michael mumbled but his voice was soft, little more than a breath really. He was so damn tired. Graham thought it was because Michael got so stressed sometimes that it drained him but the red-haired boy wasn’t sure how much truth was in that. Sometimes it felt more like Michael was just tired of _being_ tired instead – an endless loop.

Graham sat down on the edge of the bed carefully, gently carding his fingers through Michael’s crimson hair as he brushed it back. Michael felt about five years old when Graham kissed him on the forehead, murmuring a quiet goodnight.

It made the red-haired boy's eyes burn with tears and Michael reached out unthinkingly to take Graham’s hand. They both looked down at their entwined fingers in surprise. Usually Michael couldn’t stand to touch _anything_ but…

“I love you,” Michael mumbled, trying to pretend like there _weren’t_ tears threatening to spill down his cheeks as he melted into the bed. He was so warm now and his exhaustion was washing over him like waves. Graham gave his hand a gentle squeeze before he tucked it safely beneath the duvet with the rest of Michael.

“I love you too, Mikey,” Graham promised, smoothing the duvet over Michael’s shoulder before he left the room. "Goodnight, mate."

It was darker when the door clicked shut but Michael didn’t mind. He was too tired to be anxious or panicky or scared or even _sad_.

Michael snuggled deeper under the blankets as he let his eyes slide shut and, almost of their own accord, his fingertips drifted up to brush his lips.

He couldn’t help but remember the last time Calum had been in this room with him; he remembered the alcohol and the flush spreading across their cheeks and the gentle nudge of Calum’s full lips against his and…

Michael’s eyes opened and he frowned faintly into the darkness.

He still didn’t understand what that kiss had meant – was it denial? Was it the alcohol? Was it something _else_?

It felt strange, being able to think about Calum without pain. Maybe Michael was too far gone for that though, whether asleep or in love… Maybe it didn’t even matter anymore.

He flipped the pillow over so that his cheek was resting on the cool side and let his eyes slide shut again. Michael liked being able to picture Calum’s beautiful face without his heart panging in his chest and he was determined to make the most of it.

It wasn’t Calum’s eyes or his mouth or his hands that Michael thought of now though. It was Calum’s _laugh_.

Michael hadn’t heard it in such a long time – not the _real_ laugh anyway, the silent wheezing giggles that tore out of Calum when he couldn’t catch his breath because he found something so funny… the laugh Michael had heard so many times during their childhood.

Calum had laughed a lot when he was little; when he and Michael walked home from school together with Ashton; when Mali made them giggle if she deigned to come downstairs and watch cartoons with them when Michael was invited round; when they rode their bikes at the weekend and went to the park for ice creams; when they played pretend games in Michael’s garden where they imagined they had a family of pet dogs.

Michael’s cheeks were wet with tears but his lips tugged up into a faint smile as he recalled memories of times spent with Calum, slowly succumbing to sleep as it coaxed him under.

Michael liked remembering this and not just the sadder, more confusing things that came later on. He liked remembering their childhood and the games they played at school and the excited little squeak that used to escape Calum whenever he saw a dog when they went for walks together as kids.

Michael missed being close to Calum so much but their current situation didn’t feel so permanent and terrifying and _hopeless_ when he still had those old memories to cling on to.

Remembering how they’d been together once upon a time was sort of _lovely_.

Michael hoped they could be like that again one day.

He remembered Calum’s sparkling chocolate brown eyes and the white of his teeth as he flung his head back in laughter, fingers wrapped around Michael’s wrists and fluffy hair soft when he tucked his face away beneath his best friend’s chin and… and _damnit_ …

At times like this – as the red-haired boy’s eyes fluttered shut and he finally fell asleep – Michael could see why falling in love with Calum had been inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got weirdly emotional writing this and I don't even know why.  
> I hope you guys liked it though and thank you so much for reading <3  
> Please let me know what you thought!


	52. Few And Far Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“You and me used to ride our bikes out here when we were kids,” Calum said softly as Michael climbed over a low stone wall that edged the pavement, wandering back into the trees. The older boy’s eyes were gleaming with tears when he looked back over his shoulder at Calum and it made the dark-haired boy’s heart skip in his chest._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where this chapter came from but... hey... at least the tension's gone, right?  
> Oh my god please don't judge me  
> 0_o

**_Through the storm, we reach the shore._ **

**_You gave it all but I want more,_ **

**_And I’m waiting for you,_ **

**_With or without you._ **

**_With or without you._ **

**_I can’t live with or without you._ **

_\- With Or Without You, U2_

 

Calum was hurting.

That always seemed to be the case lately but it felt worse today somehow. His chest felt tight with anxiety and his arms were sore beneath the sleeves of his black jumper.

Calum was incredibly relieved when Aleisha texted him to invite him to the pub on Friday evening.

She insisted that it wouldn’t be a problem getting drinks – “Ashley sorted me a fake ID. We’ve got it covered.” – and Calum accepted the invitation without a second thought.

At least this way he wouldn’t spend another evening sitting in his bedroom in the dark and dwelling on how irreparably everything had changed.

Aleisha looked older and sadder when Calum showed up, and the smell of smoke was almost stronger than the scent of apples that always clung to her when he pulled her into a hug.

“Leish?” Calum asked when she pulled away from him abruptly, everything else forgotten. “Is everything okay?”

Her pale face was pinched and there were dark circles under her eyes, hinting that maybe she hadn’t been getting enough sleep. Her hands seemed to be shaking before she hid them both in the pockets of her skinny jeans. She was wearing a David Bowie t-shirt under her leather jacket.

“I’m fine, Calum,” she said quietly but she didn’t _sound_ like it. Aleisha pushed the door of the pub open and golden light spilt out into the evening air, accompanied by the sound of laughter and the chinking of glasses. “Now c’mon. It’s my round.”

She bought Calum a rum and coke while he found them a table but it was so busy in there that it took her several minutes to find him once she’d bought their drinks. Aleisha looked preoccupied when she sank down into the seat opposite and Calum bit his full bottom lip worriedly as he waited for her to tell him what was wrong. Fortunately, she didn’t take long to get to the point.

“It’s blondie,” she said, staring down into her glass before she picked it up, taking a sip. Her tone was vaguely accusatory when she continued talking and Calum couldn’t very well blame her; she knew he was keeping something from her now. “He’s being weird at the moment. _Distant_ … and he won’t shut up about Ashton.”

“Well… they’re good friends,” Calum tried uselessly but he didn’t know why he was bothering. He didn’t even know why he was trying to _defend_ them because what they were doing was fucking wrong except… except Calum had known Ashton his whole _life_ and he loved him like a brother and… and it felt wrong to leave them defenceless now when Aleisha’s eyes were flashing so angrily.

As quickly as the fire in her gaze had burnt to life, it went out, leaving behind only smoke.

“I’m worried about his dad too,” she breathed and there was something uncertain on her face now, like she wasn’t sure whether she should be talking or not. “Blondie’s scared of him I think… and he had to miss dance the other day because he said he twisted his ankle but… but it doesn’t add up, Cal! I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Calum thought about that, thought about the dancing and Black Swan before he kicked himself for thinking about that first. Calum wanted to get to know Luke better kind of. He figured he owed him that much at least.

“I mean… if you’ve got no proof then… then I don’t know what we can do,” Calum said quietly, biting his lip again. “I don’t know what to say,” he whispered.

“I don’t think there’s anything you _can_ say,” Aleisha said shakily but the hollowness was spreading in her eyes and Calum didn’t like how upset she looked… how _scared_.

“He’ll… he’ll be alright…” Calum drank another sip of his drink, pressing his lips together hard when his stomach churned unpleasantly. “And so will you,” he added as an afterthought. Aleisha closed her eyes for a moment.

“Just… let’s talk about something else, okay?” she asked desperately. “Just… just not this.” There was an urgency in her eyes as she seized on a subject: “Michael! Let’s talk about Michael.”

Calum’s heart ached in his chest and he finished his drink in one gulp, putting his head in his hands for a moment as he swallowed past the nausea rising inside him.

“What is there to talk about?” he asked quietly, numb almost. “I kissed him, stuck my foot even further in it, and then I got drunk and cried to Ashton on the walk home last week.” Calum tried to laugh at himself but it was too bitter to sound pleasant. “Kind of the story of my life right now, Leish.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, hanging her head so that her long hair hid her face for a moment. “I was a bitch to bring that up.” Calum shook his head firmly, reaching over the table to hold her hand.

“You weren’t. I promise you weren’t,” he said softly but she looked slightly wide-eyed now, as though something had suddenly just occurred to her.

“Wait… did you say you cried to Ashton? As in… you _talked_?” she checked and Calum’s teeth hurt when they sank hard into his bottom lip.

“Kind of,” Calum breathed but now he could remember it all in crystal clear clarity and it made a lump rise in his throat.

‘ _I said we could try. Mike said no though. Said it wasn't fair on me. I didn't know it at the time but now I can see it and I don't know how to tell him that nothing has ever_ been _fairer. I didn't want to like Mikey. I_ still _don't_.’

“But…” Aleisha’s eyes were wide and her grip on Calum’s hand was tighter now. His stomach was roiling unpleasantly; he wished he hadn’t downed his drink. “Surely you realise that Ashton must’ve told Michael what you said that night? I mean… he must realise how you feel, Cal…”

Calum raked a trembling hand through his dark curls, staring down at the table as he remembered the frightened look on Ashton’s face… the numb way Michael’s shaking fingertips touched his lips…

“Not quite,” Calum muttered, dark eyes burning dully as he finally looked up to hold Aleisha’s gaze. “ _If_ Ash told him then Mike just knows I’m conflicted… and that it hurts. That’s it.”

Aleisha’s eyes looked damp as she squeezed his hand gently.

“Things will work out, Calum,” she whispered but she didn’t look like she really believed it. Her face was empty. “I know they will.”

Calum didn’t want to be in here anymore and Aleisha didn’t look like she wanted the rest of her drink. Calum rose and his chair scraped loudly across the scuffed wooden panelling covering the floor. The younger girl looked up at him questioningly.

“Want to smoke?” Calum suggested and Aleisha shrugged, rising fluidly and wriggling into her leather jacket. Calum hadn’t brought a coat but he kind of wished he had now because it was colder outside, the dark clouds overhead hinting at rain.

It probably didn’t matter though. Neither of them were going to go back inside and Calum figured he’d be back home before the clouds opened.

Aleisha was already rolling a cigarette by the time the pub door swung shut behind them but Calum was a lot slower as he reached into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. He’d have to get a new lot soon; these ones were almost gone.

“Can I borrow your lighter?” Calum asked and Aleisha leant it to him but she looked impatient as she waited for it back, like she really _needed_ to smoke. She tapped her foot on the pavement in her heavy Doc Martens as she waited and the tension in her shoulders only eased when he reached to light her cigarette for her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, dark lipstick smudging across the paper as Calum lit his own. The flame lit his face, and the shadows there flickered and danced in the moments before the fire flickered out.

Aleisha turned away from him, gazing back down the damp street as she exhaled smoke. She let her head fall backwards, golden hair tumbling around her elbows like a waterfall as she looked up at the stars through the gaps in the bank of clouds.

“It makes you feel tiny, doesn’t it? Looking up there.” She was speaking so quietly that Calum wasn’t even sure she was talking to him anymore. “Makes you feel insignificant… like nothing you do ever really matters.”

Calum reached out for her hesitantly but she tensed when his hand settled on her shoulder and he let it fall away, swallowing hard against the lump rising in his throat. The smoke was making him want to cough today and he fought against it as his eyes burnt. (He tried to tell himself that that was the only reason his eyes were swimming with tears too but he couldn’t quite manage it.)

“You’re so important,” Calum whispered but his voice was shaking faintly. He finished his cigarette, stamping it out beneath his Vans. “You don’t deserve to have to deal with any of this shit.”

His words made Aleisha laugh but it was a thoroughly humourless sound and there was something in her expression that made Calum think she didn’t believe him.

Calum hoped she was alright but, looking at how quickly she was smoking the cigarette, he didn’t think she was okay at all.

“Neither do you,” she said softly.

She stamped her cigarette out beneath her boot, finally meeting his gaze, the light from the pub windows reflecting in the tears shimmering in her eyes. Now Calum knew why she’d refused to look at him.

“I love you, Leish,” he said quietly, touching her shoulder again. Aleisha leant into it this time and one of the tears spilled over, gliding silently down her face.

“I love you too, Cal,” she whispered.

Aleisha turned to leave and Calum let her go, putting both of his hands in his pockets as she rolled up another cigarette, walking away from him. She didn’t seem to care that the older boy’s eyes were fixed anxiously on her retreating back the whole time it took for her to leave.

Calum watched her go until the darkness swallowed her whole.

The night felt colder when he was on his own and Calum wrapped his arms around himself tightly in the darkness. It made the cuts on his wrists burn but he lost himself in the dull sting of it, wandering along in the cold as beams of moonlight shone down through the clouds.

There was another pub on the corner of the next street and the doors opened as Calum noticed it. Buttery light spilt out into the darkness just like before and a familiar figure exited into the night.

“Mike?” Calum called. He was speaking without meaning to and he cursed the alcohol for loosening his tongue except… except he didn’t even feel drunk.

Maybe it was just an excuse. Maybe he just missed Michael so badly that he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Cal,” Michael said in surprise. He was dressed in a long-sleeved dark shirt beneath his denim jacket and the distressed material of his jeans clung to his thighs, and there was something in his eyes that made a lump rise in Calum’s throat because – even after _everything_ that had happened between them – his oldest best friend still looked pleased to see him.

“Didn’t think I’d see you out tonight,” Michael said quietly and Calum gave a little shrug, frowning down at his Vans for a moment before he looked up. He had to squint a little bit because the light from the pub was shining out behind Michael and it was lighting his hair like a _halo_ almost which was just fucking typical.

Wordlessly, they fell into step beside one another.

“I just wanted to get out of the house for a while,” Calum said quietly and it might not have been a lie but it definitely felt like one. He saw Aleisha’s tired face in his mind’s eye, remembered what she’d said about Luke and Ashton… what she’d said about _Michael_. Calum swallowed past his tears. “What were you doing?”

“I went out for a drink with one of the guys from gaming… Dan, remember him?” Michael sounded tired and sad, like something had punctured him and all of the life was seeping out. “And… and Charlie Barker was in there…”

“Shit,” Calum breathed, frown creasing his brow as he recalled how pissed off Charlie had been the last time he’d seen Michael. “Were you okay?” Calum asked quietly, concern colouring his tone. They were already at the end of the road now and Michael looked at him with dark eyes. There was something burning deep in them and Calum’s eyes dropped down to Michael’s mouth.

“Yeah,” the older boy whispered, cherry-red lips moving to form the word. “You in any particular rush to get home tonight?”

Calum tried to smile but it felt unnatural on his face.

“Never,” he said and it felt like second nature to follow Michael off down a winding road that he was fairly certain he'd never seen before. It was empty and lined with trees, and the houses were few and far between.

They weren’t that far from the _pier_ actually, now that Calum thought about it, and it made the lump in his throat that much harder to swallow past because he hadn’t been back here in years.

“You and me used to ride our bikes out here when we were kids,” Calum said softly as Michael climbed over a low stone wall that edged the pavement, wandering back into the trees. The older boy’s eyes were gleaming with tears when he looked back over his shoulder at Calum and it made the dark-haired boy’s heart skip in his chest.

“I know,” Michael said quietly, leaning back against a tree that Calum was sure they’d used to sit under when they were younger. He could hear the waves crashing against the pebbly beach and the wind was colder up here, smelling of the ocean. “I’m not going to forget something like that.”

Calum walked closer to him but there were tree roots twisting out of the earth beneath the dried leaves covering the ground and he lost his footing, stumbling to a stop with his hands pressed flat to Michael’s chest as they gazed at each other, eyes glittering in the darkness.

Something felt different between them tonight, like being away from school meant that they’d left all of the tension behind and… and Calum had never noticed how long Michael’s golden eyelashes were before but he could see it now. He was close enough to count each one.

Michael’s lips parted and he wet them unconsciously with his tongue.

God, Calum wanted to kiss him. He could feel it unfurling hotly in his stomach and it was making his knees feel weak. Michael’s hands were shaking faintly when he hesitantly let them settle in the small of Calum’s back. The dark-haired boy pressed closer almost without thinking and Michael’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment before he looked down at Calum again, expression _needy_ almost.

One of Calum’s hands slid down to settle lightly on Michael’s hip and the red-haired boy bit his lip, looking faintly dazed as he held the smaller boy closer still, and Calum didn’t want to think anymore.

He just wanted to feel.

Michael’s skin smelt comforting when Calum tucked his face away into the older boy’s neck and Michael made a soft little sound in the back of his throat when Calum brushed his lips over the warm skin there. Calum couldn’t see what colour Michael’s shirt was in the darkness but it felt like one of those stupid games of Truth Or Dare and Spin The Bottle that they used to play at parties… only Calum’s nerves weren’t usually on fire then. He didn’t usually feel like he was just _seconds_ away from going up in flames.

Michael’s fingers were shaking when he reached for Calum’s jaw but he was so gentle when he tilted the younger boy’s head up. Calum stretched up on his tiptoes and Michael’s arms were wrapped warmly around him, and Calum didn’t know who moved first but the end result was the same: they were kissing.

That felt different this time too though; harder than that night on Michael’s bedroom floor, sweeter than at the party, fuelled by something that both of them were too afraid to say out loud.

The tree bark was rough when Michael leant back against it and the wind was dampening their clothes with sea spray but neither of them seemed to care. Calum felt too hot and Michael’s tongue was stroking lightly across his own, and Calum kind of wanted to make noise but that would have made everything feel too real somehow.

Calum didn’t know how this had happened but all he could focus on were Michael’s fingers tangling in his hair, his hand slipping _lower_ than Calum’s back, the tiny moan that escaped Michael when Calum’s fingers pressed bruises into his hips.

They were making out against a tree in the darkness on the way home, on a back road without any houses that barely anyone walked down anymore. The realisation came to Calum slowly and it felt unreal almost… dreamlike…

Calum didn’t even feel drunk this time and maybe that was the worst thing but Michael was hard against him by now, and Calum couldn’t find it in himself to blame him because he was well on the way too. It just felt so _good_ but… but wrong too… like this was something they shouldn’t ever have discovered… like this was something they couldn’t ever get _enough_ of.

Calum remembered that night on Michael’s bedroom floor, remembered the red-haired boy’s breathless: “What the fuck?” and… and damnit, Calum had never agreed with anything more because what the _fuck_ was he doing? What the actual _fuck_?!

Calum’s hips jerked and a low groan tore out of him when Michael’s trembling hand slipped down to touch him, and there was a stunned look in Michael’s eyes as his hand eased inside Calum’s jeans, like he couldn’t believe Calum was letting him have this… like he couldn’t believe it was _real_.

Calum moaned, kissing Michael harder and biting his bottom lip just gently enough that it didn’t hurt. Michael was louder than Calum and he broke the kiss to pant, whining softly when Calum tugged the neck of his shirt aside to mouth at his shoulder instead. Michael’s skin was so pale and Calum felt a sick sort of smugness that he got to suck bruises there where no one else could see.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Michael gasped out when Calum reached shakily to palm him and it felt instinctive almost, like tightening his grip and rubbing the shape of Michael’s hard cock through his jeans while the older boy fell apart against him was something he should have done a long time ago.

Michael’s fingers felt so good wrapped around him and Calum squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the nails of his free hand bit into Michael’s shoulder through his shirt. Calum’s legs were shaking and he had to consciously lock his knees in an effort to stay upright while Calum fucked around with the button on Michael’s jeans, sliding his hand inside.

Calum wrapped his fingers around Michael's cock, smearing his thumb over the tip and spreading pre-cum down the length of it. He tried to pretend he was touching himself at first – applying everything he liked, just in a different direction instead – but Michael ruined it when he choked out a desperate: “Calum, _fuck_.”

Michael’s hips were jerking but his fist was still gliding and Calum could feel the heat in his stomach bubbling hotter.

‘ _This would have been better with lube_ ,’ Calum realised before he buried his hysterical laugh in Michael’s shoulder, ignoring the slight ache in his wrist and the stickiness of his palm because Michael’s breath was escaping him in pants now and his pupils were blown.

God, he looked so fucking good. Calum hadn’t been prepared for how _incredible_ Michael would look when he was this close to coming but it was amazing; his cherry-red lips were kiss-bitten and his eyes kept fluttering shut as wrecked moans poured out of him.

Michael’s hand had slackened at the pleasure burning through him but he tightened his grip unexpectedly, jerking Calum faster like he was suddenly really intent on making him finish.

Calum moaned against his better judgement, looping his free arm around Michael’s neck as he kept moving his fist but… but _fuck_ , it was difficult when he felt like he was about five seconds away from coming.

Calum had thought about them doing this before, he suddenly realised. He’d imagined this; imagined Michael’s crimson hair and sparkling emerald green eyes, and the way the older boy’s pale hand would feel wrapped tightly around him as his fist sped up – just like it was doing _now_ – except… this was better.

This was _so_ much better.

Calum came with a broken moan, shuddering against Michael and burying his sob in Michael’s neck as his hips jerked uselessly through the aftershocks. It was even darker now and he felt a drop of rain hit his cheek – or was it a tear? – but there was no time to dwell on it because Michael was staring at him so desperately with his flushed cheeks and tear-wet eyes, and Calum couldn’t make him wait any longer.

Michael’s cock was so hot in Calum’s hand and he was leaking so much that Calum wasn’t thinking about the lack of lube or the orgasm he’d just had anymore. All he could focus on were Michael’s little gasping breaths and the shudder of his hips as his cock kicked in Calum’s hand.

“I’ve got you,” Calum whispered, the words humid against the soft skin of the red-haired boy’s throat as Calum’s lips brushed the skin there. Michael shuddered but he seemed to almost curl in on himself as his fingers dug into Calum’s skin and Michael’s climax hit him like a freight train.

Michael was a boy – he was a fucking _boy_ – but… but now his hot cum was dripping over Calum’s fingers and he was crying out a desperate: “ _God_ , Cal, I – I love – I –” before he faltered, biting down on Calum’s shoulder instead. The dark-haired boy’s heart shuddered in his chest and his hand fell limply from Michael’s cock.

Calum felt the numbness creeping back up on him as Michael fell apart, and Calum thought he must be fucking stupid because now was _far_ too late for realisations.

The rain was starting to fall in earnest now and the tears were spilling down Calum’s cheeks without his permission. Michael jerked suddenly, like he was realising what had just happened, and a ragged sob escaped him when he pulled away, gasping out a desperate apology.

“Stop it,” Calum whispered, wiping his hand hard on his jeans and closing his eyes for a moment before he let his forehead fall to rest lightly against Michael’s. At least he’d got to forget everything for a little while, until the rain came down and washed all of the pleasure away. “ _Please_ , Michael, just… don’t say sorry. Not for this.”

Michael opened his mouth like he was going to say something but Calum refused to elaborate. Michael fell silent when he saw the determination colouring the younger boy’s expression and his hands hung limply at his sides as the rain ran down his cheeks, the drops the size of bullets.

Calum’s hands were trembling as he cradled Michael’s face gently in his hands and the love that the dark-haired boy wished wasn’t there burnt like fire in his empty eyes.

Calum pressed a soft kiss to Michael’s lips, lingering there for a moment before he turned to walk away.

He felt the older boy’s eyes fixed on his back the entire time but Calum wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ – look back.

Michael stood there in the rain for a very long time before he finally headed towards Graham’s house.

“What happened?” the nurse asked softly when Michael let himself in. His nephew was shivering, his clothes plastered to his skin from the rain outside.

“I don’t know,” Michael whispered. His fingers were shaking when he touched his lips. “I honestly have no idea.”

Across town, Calum was asking himself much the same question.

He didn’t make himself sick that night. He didn’t cut and he didn’t cry and he didn’t wish he wouldn’t wake up in the morning.

He simply slumped down onto his bed, fully-clothed with tears burning in his eyes, and stared up at the ceiling until he passed out.

‘ _Fucking hell_ ,’ Calum thought and he didn’t know what he was doing anymore but Michael’s face when he came was burned into Calum’s brain. ‘ _Oh my fucking god_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was okay!  
> Like... I'm really worried this wasn't okay...  
> Someone please tell me that this was okay....
> 
> (Thank you for reading. I'm totally going to go and hide now okay bYE)


	53. Lifeline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Joy looked so tired as she leant against the door frame and Calum wanted to help her but he didn’t know how. He couldn’t even help_ himself _anymore._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter made me so sad to write.  
> I know the parents in the Maelstrom/Tempest universe kind of suck but I wanted to use this to show you guys why they do, maybe? Like... maybe they're not _all_ as bad as you thought.  
>  Anyway, I hope this is okay.

**_Our legs begin to break._ **

**_We've walked this path for far too long._ **

**_My lungs, they start to ache,_ **

**_But still we carry on._ **

_\- The Sadness Will Never End, Bring Me The Horizon_

Calum was exhausted when he came home from school on Monday. He’d had a double period of maths, Violet hadn’t been at school so he’d had to partner with Charlie in science, and their football practice had been nothing short of horrendous.

They were playing a match with a neighbouring school the next day but Calum was dreading it to be honest. Usually he felt a lot more confident about their chances but it felt almost like the team _knew_ that the fight had drained out of their captain because no one seemed to be having any fun anymore. Playing football just made Calum sad now.

It started to rain on the way home, the weather cold and damp for the first time since that night with Michael two weeks ago.

Things were strained between them again but it wasn’t the same as before because they didn’t feel so awkward anymore. Michael and Calum shared more lingering touches, and the younger boy caught Michael looking at him sometimes, his eyes so intent that it reminded the dark-haired boy of that day in the changing room when Michael couldn’t keep his eyes away; it made Calum blush.

Perhaps the strangest part was that sometimes Calum forgot how fat and sick he felt when Michael’s fingertips brushed the back of his hand whenever he passed him something. It felt _insane_ that Michael could have that effect on him - that _anyone_ could, let alone a boy - but Calum was starting to understand ‘insane’ now.

Maybe it wasn’t such a strange thing after all.

Calum was soaking wet and freezing cold by the time he got home but at least the violent shivers tearing through him were a welcome distraction from the gnawing pain in his empty stomach.

Joy was in the kitchen; Calum could hear the soft sound of the radio playing and the quiet noise of her humming along to the music. For just a moment, Calum’s expression was soft on his face. He wished he was close to Joy. He wished for a lot of things.

“Aren’t you going to eat dinner?” she asked when she saw Calum edging towards the stairs. He pressed his lips together into a thin line, shoulders hunching up defensively as she appeared in the doorway.

“I had something to eat on the way home from school. A burger,” he invented wildly, fighting against the sudden reckless urge to laugh at how ridiculous that statement was.

Joy pursed her lips, watching him carefully with her dark eyes - the same dark eyes that her two children shared with her. She fiddled with the hem of her blouse in an unusual display of concern, picking at a loose thread between two manicured fingers.

“I don’t think you’re eating enough at the moment, Calum. You look peaky,” she said and Calum swallowed past the lump in his throat, forcing a smile onto his face.

“You don’t have to worry about me, mum,” he said… _lied_. “What time’s dad home?”

A shadow passed over Joy’s face and Calum pretended not to notice the slight trembling of her fingers as her hands fell to rest limply by her sides. There were a collection of small bruises on her wrist that only became apparent when her sleeves slipped back - they looked like _fingerprints_ almost and… Calum’s face fell.

“David won’t be long,” she said quietly. For the first time, Calum noticed how exhausted she looked… how sad. Mali probably would have shouted at her for staying with someone who upset her so much. Calum just felt tired. “If you’ve already eaten then you should go upstairs,” Joy said but there was something faintly suspicious in her eyes as she watched her youngest child carefully. “I don’t think your father’s in the best mood tonight.”

“Right,” Calum said slowly, hesitating before he reached out towards her. His hand fell just short of her arm. “Well… see you tomorrow then I guess?” Joy looked so tired as she leant against the door frame and Calum wanted to help her but he didn’t know how. He couldn’t even help _himself_ anymore.

‘ _Be careful_ ,’ he wanted to say. ‘ _Don’t let him hurt you. We don’t have to stay here. We can run away like Mali… except I’d miss Michael - you remember Michael, don’t you? My best friend? The guy I’m falling in love with?_ ’

Calum pressed his lips harshly together, eyes burning with tears as the slowly-drying rain water left his dark hair curlier than ever. He stayed silent.

“Goodnight,” Joy said quietly, dark eyes widening faintly when she heard David’s car pulling up in the driveway.

Calum disappeared up the stairs quickly, thoughts a sticky mess in his head as his breath caught in his chest. He felt like he was going to burst into tears but he couldn’t work out _why_.

Maybe he needed a shower. Maybe the hot water would wash away all of the sickness lingering inside him. Maybe he could just forget everything for a little while.

Calum was glad to take his wet uniform off once he'd locked the bathroom door but he made the mistake of looking at his reflection in the mirror and it made the lump return to his throat with a vengeance as stood frozen beneath the harsh lights. He was shivering as he stared at himself because… because he could see all of his ribs in the mirror, jutting out dangerously through the thin membrane of his skin but… but he could _feel_ how fat he was when his hands spread over his abdomen.

His empty stomach was bloated and there was soft, downy hair on his scarred arms and over his skin, like his body had to fight extra hard to keep itself warm. Calum felt sick but it wasn’t because of food for once - it was because he was _afraid_.

He half-wanted to cover himself with the clean clothes he’d brought into the bathroom with him but there didn’t seem to be much point and… and besides, Calum was probably just being stupid and delusional. It wasn’t even that _bad_ if he screwed his eyes up; then all he could see was tanned skin, dark curls and long limbs.

Calum widened his eyes and stared at himself though because he couldn’t _help_ it. He was so confused because he could _see_ that he didn’t look fat but… he could feel the rolls of it in his hands when he pinched at it between his fingers and… and Calum wasn’t blind _or_ stupid. He knew something was badly fucking wrong here. He just had no desire to fix it.

The water was hot on his cool skin but Calum welcomed the subtle burn of it as he washed his hair with the coconut shampoo that he was pretty sure Michael had been using since he went to live with Graham; the scent reminded Calum of him. The dark-haired boy closed his eyes beneath the spray, trying hard not to think about that night in the darkness but helpless not to.

All he could see in his mind’s eye was **Michael** ; the way his fingers looked curled around Calum's cock, the look in his beautiful eyes as he gazed at Calum with lust saturating his expression, the wrecked look on his face as he came all over Calum’s fingers, biting what had once been the thick muscle of Calum’s neck.

The dark-haired boy gave a little hiss of defeat as his hand fell to stroke his hardening cock and he bit his bottom lip hard to suppress his moan. He wished he’d thought to put some music on but the only sounds were the pounding of the water on the tiles and the slick sound of his cock sliding through his fist, and there was no way he was getting out of the shower now.

His wet skin was warm beneath his free hand when Calum stroked up his chest, fingertips pressing against his throat as the heat pooled in his stomach. He imagined it was Michael’s hand around his throat instead and Calum’s strangled moan was almost _too_ loud as his cock pulsed in his hand.

He wanted to touch Michael again, needed to see the pleasure flooding the older boy’s face as he squeezed his eyes shut and moaned out Calum’s name. The dark-haired boy wondered what other sounds he could draw out of Michael and he had to bite down on his knuckle to stay quiet as his hips started to jerk, cock spurting out pre-cum as his chocolate brown eyes fluttered tighter shut.

A tiny part of Calum wondered how it would feel to fuck Michael - how it would feel if Michael fucked _him_ \- and Calum came with a broken moan, slumping back against the cold wet tiles as he spilt over his fist. The shower washed him clean before his head had even stopped reeling and Calum inhaled shakily, slightly wide-eyed as he reached for the shower gel beneath the cooling water and tried to scrub the thoughts of Michael away.

Calum was still red-faced when he struggled out of the shower, tugging his pyjamas on and towelling his hair dry so that his dark, fluffy curls fell down messily over his forehead.

Calum was just walking out of the bathroom in his pyjamas when he spied his mum lingering on the stairs.

“You didn’t have a burger today... did you, Calum?” Joy’s expression was tight and Calum froze.

“Mum, I -”

“You were worried about eating dinner with your father. I understand,” she said quietly, keeping her voice low so that her husband wouldn’t hear where he waited downstairs, and Calum felt like someone had ripped the ground out beneath his feet because… because she was so wrong but Calum was going to grasp that excuse like a fucking lifeline.

“Yeah,” he breathed and Joy looked grey in the light from the bathroom.

“Come downstairs,” she said gently, _pleadingly_. “I’m doing roast chicken, new potatoes, gravy… You used to love my roast dinners, Calum.”

He couldn’t say no to her. Not when she was looking at him with hope burning in her sad eyes.

“I’ll come down, mum,” he whispered and Joy gave him a tight-lipped smile, squeezing his arm gently. It would have been sweet if it hadn’t made the cuts on his arm sting and Calum pulled away without meaning to. Joy’s face fell and she started to turn away but Calum couldn’t stand the pain on her face.

“I love you, mum,” he mumbled, looping one arm awkwardly around her shoulders before he drew back, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Now… let’s go have dinner… It sounds really great, mum. Honestly.”

The atmosphere at dinner was horrible. David was in a foul mood - Calum guessed it was something to do with work although he didn’t care enough to ask - and Joy was jumpy, fingers trembling faintly as she pulled at her sleeve, trying hard to hide the bruises there. Calum’s eyes welled with furious tears as he cut his chicken into tiny pieces, squashing what he could under one of the potatoes and chewing the rest until it was utterly tasteless in his mouth. Swallowing it felt like defeat but David’s eyes were cold and Calum’s movements were mechanical as he kept his watery gaze fixed down on his plate.

“When’s your next football match?” David asked gruffly as he finished his dinner, curling his thick hands on the table as he surveyed his family. Nobody commented on the empty chair Mali had left behind anymore. They barely even acknowledged her these days.

Calum tried to speak but his voice was hoarse because his throat was dry so he had to drink a sip of water first. “Tomorrow.” Calum’s shoulders rose uncomfortably when he noticed that David was still watching him unblinkingly. “We had a practice for it today actually.”

“Oh? And how did that go?” David asked as Joy looked up curiously. That made tears sting in Calum’s eyes too because wanting him to do well at football was probably the only thing the three of them had in common… except Calum didn’t care enough about that anymore. He just felt empty instead.

“Terrible,” Calum said unthinkingly, because it was the truth… because he was too tired to lie about something else now.

“Typical.”

David kept making comments all through the rest of dinner, little barbs designed to scrape away at Calum until he felt raw and sore. His stomach was twisting itself into knots, churning unpleasantly at all of the food he’d had to eat, and Calum could taste bile in his throat when he finally let his cutlery clatter down onto his plate.

“Go upstairs and do your homework, Calum,” Joy said softly but the gratitude had barely flared to life in Calum’s eyes when David looked up sharply.

“I’m not done talking to him yet. Sit down, boy.”

Calum sank back down into his seat, twisting his hands nervously in his lap beneath the table as he forced himself to meet his father’s gaze. David had been kind once, friendly and patient. Calum couldn’t understand where everything had gone so badly wrong.

“Found yourself a girlfriend yet?” he boomed and Calum flinched, curling inwards as his fingernails bit into his thighs.

“Uh… not quite.” Calum swallowed uncomfortably, chocolate brown eyes swimming as he glanced up at Joy, taking in the anxiety burning in her eyes. “But… but there is _kind_ of a girl…” Calum didn’t know where he was going with this. He didn’t have a fucking _clue_ but it was too late to turn back now.

“What’s her name?” Joy asked, just as David said: “Have you fucked her yet?”

Joy flinched, eyes falling to settle on the table. She pressed her lips together hard like it was all she could do not to snap at him but Calum’s eyes were drawn to the bruises on her wrist. He supposed this was up to him then.

“Her name’s Violet,” he lied, fighting to ignore the guilt burning in his chest. “And _no_ , dad. No, I haven’t.” His voice was cold and David watched him with his bloodshot eyes, leaning closer like he was going to ask something else. “Now can I _please_ go upstairs to do my homework?”

David sneered, muttering something under his breath as he rose from the table, stalking back into the living room to leave Joy with the plates. Calum started to help her collect them but she pushed his hands away gently, shaking her head.

“Go upstairs,” she breathed, stretching to press a gentle kiss to her son's cheek. That was unusual but maybe she could feel the same melancholy feeling too. “I love you. Get some sleep.”

“I love you too. Night, mum.”

Calum’s stomach felt _so_ full now and he felt sick as he stumbled up the stairs, disappearing into his room for a moment to get his phone and the razor blade from his desk drawer before he locked himself in the bathroom.

It was cold in there and Calum was shuddering with it as the nausea unfurled in his stomach. He unlocked his phone with shaky fingers, scrolling blindly through his playlist before he hit the first song he saw, turning it up as loud as he dared. Psychosocial by Slipknot started to play but Calum let his phone fall down onto the tiles, accompanied by the little chink of the blade hitting the ground.

Calum crawled over to the toilet, opening his mouth around his fingers and gagging as they brushed the back of his throat. His teeth scraped into his knuckle and he tasted the faintest trace of blood before the familiar acidic burn was all he knew.

“ _And the rain will kill us all. We throw ourselves against the wall but no one else can see the preservation of the martyr in me. There are cracks in the road we laid but where the temple fell, the secrets have gone mad._ ”

Calum heaved, felt his stomach contracting painfully as his eyes stung with tears and his throat burnt painfully. He finished with a little groaning sound but Calum could hear the faintest sounds of David’s raised voice downstairs and his stomach still felt sickening, and Calum’s fingers searched again as he gagged, choking on his sobs.

“ _This is nothing new, but when we killed it all, the hate was all we had. Who needs another mess? We could start over._ ”

Calum groaned, sitting back on his heels shakily and wiping his trembling hand across his mouth. He could taste blood and his forehead was prickling with cold sweat. He flushed the toilet, choked on a sob that bubbled up out of his aching throat.

“ _Just look me in the eyes and say I'm wrong._ ”

He heard someone shouting downstairs, heard the faintest sounds of breaking glass, like something had been flung at the wall.

Calum’s hand stopped shaking when he picked up the razor blade.

“ _Now there's only emptiness._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3


	54. Die Trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _He just wanted to run. He wanted to feel the burn of air in his lungs and the ache of his muscles as he burnt up fat and… and it wasn’t going to be enough. It was never,_ ever _going to be enough but… but Calum had to try. It was all he had left anymore._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short and sad but I hope you guys won't hate it. If anyone's still reading this idk.

**_All the kids cried out:_ **

**_"Please stop, you're scaring me."_ **

**_I can't help this awful energy._ **

**_Goddamn right, you should be scared of me._ **

**_Who is in control?_ **

_\- Control, Halsey_

 

Calum woke up at five in the morning without realising why.

It was dark but the light was more grey than black now, shadows dancing across the ceiling as a lone car drove past outside. The football match wasn’t for hours yet but Calum already felt incredibly anxious, empty stomach twisting and snarling as it knotted itself up like barbed wire. Calum pushed himself into a sitting position and his head swam dizzily but… he felt even worse than he usually did.

Calum groaned softly, dropping his head into his hands for a moment. His throat felt raw from where he’d scraped it with his nails the night before. His head was swimming sickeningly now and Calum was so empty that he felt like he was about to float away.

He twisted his fingers tightly in the sweatpants he’d worn to bed but it didn’t make him feel any better. Swearing softly under his breath, Calum kicked his duvet away and climbed out of bed, creeping across the landing in the dark and stumbling down the stairs as he shivered. Calum was always cold these days. Always.

The fridge hummed softly when Calum opened it but his hands were trembling when he reached to get a can of diet coke from the back shelf. He popped the tab, raising the can to his full lips and taking a gulp. The sugary rush of the caffeine made his head stop swimming and Calum groaned quietly once he’d drank half of it, folding one of his arms on the countertop and burying his face in the crook of his elbow because he was hungry kind of… needed to eat something except he wasn’t sure he could let himself...

Calum’s dark eyes settled on the bag of bagels in the fridge and he reached for them unthinkingly, grabbing two out of the bag and slicing them clumsily with a bread knife. He spread jam over them thickly before he leant against the counter, tearing them to pieces and cramming them into his mouth before he washed it down with the rest of his coke.

Calum became aware of what he was doing slowly and it made the revulsion unfurl in his stomach like never before as he pinched spitefully at the rolls of fat because… god, because it was _five_ in the morning and Calum was standing there in the dark stuffing his face. This was why he was fat. This was the reason he was never going to be good enough…

This was why he was never going to be _perfect_.

Calum hid the evidence that he’d ever been in the kitchen at all before he climbed the stairs on autopilot, cold feet silent on the carpet as he pushed the bathroom door open, cringing when it creaked. Calum’s head was a whirling mess of anxiety and exhaustion, and the jam was sickly sweet on his tongue, making Calum heave before he’d even knelt down in front of the toilet.

The dark-haired boy was glad of it in a way. His throat was already scraped raw from yesterday and he was grateful that it only took the lightest of brushes from his fingertips before his stomach convulsed.

Calum had had this phobia of being sick when he was a little kid; he’d hated the burning in his throat and his nose, the fact that he couldn’t breathe properly, the tears that prickled in his eyes as he gagged.

All of those things were almost comforting now because they meant that Calum was purging. They meant that he was losing weight and becoming skinnier.

They meant that he was that much closer to _perfect_ but, as Calum dry-heaved into the toilet, he wondered why he didn’t _feel_ the goodness in what he was doing.

He wondered why it felt like a dirty secret he had to hide and not the solution so many people seemed to be searching for.

Calum wondered briefly how long he’d be able to carry on like this for before he started to crumble.

Calum only sat back on his heels when he was sure there was nothing left and it was painful enough that it took his breath away as his heart ached, rapid pounding painful in his chest. Calum gasped in a ragged breath, gripping the toilet seat hard because he felt like he was going to pass out but… but he knew, deep down, this wouldn’t be enough to stop him.

He’d always been dedicated. That was why he was the captain of the football team. That was why his clothes barely fit him anymore.

That was why Calum was going to make _sure_ he was perfect - or die trying.

Whichever came first.

“Calum?”

Joy’s voice was so soft as she pushed the bathroom door open and… god, Calum hadn’t even shut it properly. His dark bloodshot eyes were tear-wet and wide with quickly-smothered fear but he was still trembling as he looked up at his mother.

She was standing in the doorway, worry etched into her face as she watched her son slump back against the sink with a soft groan.

“Were you sick?” she asked quietly, concern colouring her tone as she drifted closer. “Are you ill? Do you need me to get you anything?”

“I’m fine, mum,” Calum said hoarsely but he was afraid that she’d been standing outside for too long. His knuckle was bleeding again and Calum buried it in the pocket of his trousers.“I’m just… I’m nervous about the game later. I’m scared and then I got sick. That’s all.”

“Oh,” Joy breathed and there was something on her face, a strange mixture of worry and _relief_. “I thought I heard you go downstairs.”

“I wanted some water,” Calum lied promptly. Joy’s expression became troubled.

“I heard the fridge.”

“You must have been mistaken. You’re tired. It’s easy to get confused.” Calum rose unsteadily, flushing the chain and crossing to the sink to get his toothbrush. The acidic taste in his mouth was making him feel sick but Joy’s hollow eyes were even worse as they settled on Calum’s frame, no doubt taking in how fat he looked as his long-sleeved t-shirt clung to him, hiding the cuts marring the scarred skin of his arms.

“The game will be alright, Calum,” Joy said quietly but Calum’s eyes were prickling with tears and his stomach _hurt_ now. His heart was still aching in his chest and Calum gripped the edge of the sink as subtly as he could, struggling to stay upright. “I believe in you.”

Calum gave her a tight smile when he was done, praying she couldn’t see his secrets etched into the grey pallor of his face. She touched his shoulder gently when he left the bathroom and Calum leant into the touch for just a moment before he turned away from her, heading back towards his bedroom so that he could try to grab another hour of sleep before his alarm went off. Somehow, he didn’t think that was likely.

Joy sighed quietly behind him and Calum froze as something horrible occurred to him, dripping down his spine like melted ice.

“Did dad hurt you again?” he asked quietly and the silence stretched between them for just a moment too long before Joy forced a breath of laughter.

“No. Of course not. I don’t know where you get these ridiculous ideas, Calum.”

Her tone said ‘ _don’t be stupid_ ’ but her eyes begged ‘ _help me_ ’ when he turned to look at her.

He wished he knew what to do.

He wished Mali was still here.

“I don’t think I’m going to get anymore sleep now,” Calum said quietly but his heart felt like it was breaking in his chest. “Do you want to come and sit in my room with me? I have some photos and stuff in there I think. That might be nice.”

Joy looked like she was going to cry but she took a half-step towards him, hand outstretched before she heard a gruff voice calling her name from the bedroom. Her face fell and a tear slipped down her cheek that she wiped away rapidly as she shot her son an apologetic look, heading back towards her room.

“You don’t have to do everything he says, mum,” Calum breathed, trembling hands curling into fists at his sides.

Joy stiffened but she didn’t turn to look at him.

“Yes, I do,” she whispered.

Calum went back into his room alone. He sat on his bed for a little while in the darkness, bolt upright as his insides ached with pain and his dark eyes tracked the bright red numbers of the clock as they flicked closer and closer to the time Calum would have to leave for school… another day.

He got dressed at seven, slipping a long-sleeved t-shirt on beneath his school shirt that he could wear under his football uniform and the team jumper. It was the only way he could keep his scars hidden and, since Calum didn’t particularly relish the thought of outing himself to the entire team, the possibility of overheating and almost passing out was probably a safer bet.

It was a cool, overcast day but the grass was dry beneath his feet as Calum walked to school alone and he wanted to be glad of the excellent conditions but there was a hollow in his chest that was expanding, consuming everything in its path.

“Alright, team. Just try your hardest. See you on the other side.”

Those were the words Calum always said to the team before a game but he couldn’t inject any enthusiasm into his voice. He just sounded _dead_ and even Ashton - who looked almost as grey-faced as Calum - looked up at his best friend in shock.

Calum didn’t care. He didn’t care about much of anything anymore.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly and the team were almost silent as they followed their captain out onto the field. It didn’t bode well and the grey clouds overhead seemed ominous.

It was undoubtedly the worst game they’d ever played.

The coach was staring at them with flaming cheeks and a shell-shocked expression from the sidelines.

Calum tried to pretend the football was his dad’s head when he kicked it but he missed an easy shot and he could almost imagine David’s cold tone as he mocked him for that.

Calum gave up after that.

He felt like he was breaking and he couldn’t hide it anymore. He couldn’t cope with anything these days - football, making people happy, keeping his mum safe - and Calum felt sick with himself when the final whistle blew and he realised that they’d lost the game six-nil.

Michael was sitting in the stands, red hair so obvious as it stood out among the crowd. Calum’s dark eyes had kept flickering towards him without meaning to and he could feel himself growing upset as he hurried off the field ahead of the team, tears blurring his vision, fury coiling icily around his heart.

Ashton had wanted to play music in the garage with them later but Calum had got the feeling that Luke wasn’t involved and that just meant him sitting alone in a room with Ashton and Michael and… and Calum couldn’t cope with that anymore… not with things the way they were.

Damnit, he was losing control.

Calum grabbed his bag from the locker and ran out of the changing rooms before anyone else had even entered the room. He’d already decided that he wasn’t going to go to any more lessons that day but he didn’t want to go home either.

He just wanted to run. He wanted to feel the burn of air in his lungs and the ache of his muscles as he burnt up fat and… and it wasn’t going to be enough. It was never, _ever_ going to be enough but… but Calum had to try. It was all he had left anymore.

He didn’t have a clear destination in mind as he walked through town numbly, still dressed in mud-stained shorts, too many layers, and his football boots. His dark curls were sticking to his forehead with sweat and his eyes were stinging with tears.

Calum felt dead inside… empty and hollowed out. A mere husk of his former self.

Like the burnt-out shell of a house that had once sustained life.

Calum found himself on the bridge that led out of town, hundreds of metres over the river as vehicles of all shapes and sizes thundered past, tearing down the tarmac as Calum stood there frozen on the narrow strip of pavement.

He looped an arm carefully around one of the thick metal cables that supported the bridge, holding onto it and leaning out over the safety barrier as he gazed down unseeingly into the dark waters below.

For just a moment, Calum pictured climbing over the barrier and letting himself fall… a swan dive into oblivion almost… like Nina.

Calum could see it happening. He could picture the impact of his body hitting the icy water, as limp as a ragdoll, and the ripples that would spread out as he sank below the surface, never to be seen again.

Calum leant further out and a car beeped its horn as it roared past, and Calum’s grip almost slipped for a moment, heart rising into his throat in the seconds before his fingers found tight purchase on the cold metal.

God, for just a second… Calum had experienced what it would be like to fall from this height. To let go and let himself tumble like a leaf on the wind, utterly powerless.

It felt freeing and dizzying and liberating.

A part of Calum wished he was brave enough to let go for real but… maybe one day…

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you if you've read this far - I really hope people are still enjoying it <3


	55. Starring Role

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Michael's thoughts were running away from him now and all he could think about were all of the times he'd been close to Calum -_ too _close like that night against the tree, with bumping lips and clumsy movements and searching hands..._  
>  _All the times when Michael had failed to ask Calum what was wrong._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys will like this one.  
> I’m looking forward for more Muke from this story.

**_Don't let yourself go,_ **

**_'Cause everybody cries,_ **

**_And everybody hurts sometimes._ **

_\- Everybody Hurts, R.E.M._

 

Michael was worried sick.

He knew how much this football game had meant to Calum and the fact that they’d lost so badly must have cut the younger boy up inside. The shame twisted the dark-haired boy’s expression as he ran from the field the very moment the game was over and Michael watched him go with a lump in his throat, too far away to chase after his best friend even though everything in him was screaming that he should.

Michael met Ashton coming out of the changing rooms and the goalkeeper confirmed that Calum was nowhere to be seen. Michael’s worrying increased, anxiety burning low in the pit of his stomach as he walked beside Ashton, heading in the direction of their homes.

The sky was grey overhead, thick with rolling clouds as a cool wind picked up, and even when Ashton tried to distract Michael with a hug, the red-haired boy barely processed it. Everything in his head was screaming **CalumCalumCalum**.

Damnit, Michael was meant to be there with him – through it all, just like they’d always said – but now he didn’t even know where Calum _was_ and the dark-haired boy wasn’t answering his phone, and Michael was afraid.

His eyes were sad and tired but the younger boy felt himself bristle when he looked up, spying Luke leaving an alleyway ahead of them, backpack slung over the shoulder of the posh blazer he had to wear for school. He was limping though, face twisted like every step he took hurt him, and Michael felt a frown creasing his brow as Luke’s name was punched out of Ashton in a pained gasp.

“ _Ash_?” Luke’s eyes were wide when he saw the curly-haired boy and Michael’s frown deepened. He’d always been under the impression that Ashton and Luke were practically inseparable but… but maybe they hadn’t been talking recently after all. Maybe something was wrong.

Luke looked vaguely alarmed at the prospect of walking with Michael but he tried to be polite, asking the older boy how he was. Michael raised an eyebrow, looking between the pair of them as he tried to work out what was going on. Ashton was clinging to the red-haired boy now, fingertips biting into his bicep as he watched the blond boy with wide eyes. Luke was staring at Ashton touching Michael with something like betrayal.

"I feel like maybe it's _me_ who should be asking _you_ that, Hemmings. What the fuck's wrong with you?" Michael demanded because Luke had just let out a pained sound when he put too much weight on his bad leg and Luke flinched when Ashton reached out like he was going to help him. Michael tensed because… surely not… “Or should that be who the fuck has a _problem_ with you?!”

Michael wanted Luke to look at him in disbelief or shock but he didn’t. There was something grim and hurting and _afraid_ in his pale face, and Michael felt sick when he realised that maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d been hurt by people who should have looked after him.

“My dad,” Luke answered quietly, looking down so that he couldn’t see Michael’s face falling. “My brothers. But mostly my dad.”

Ashton looked exhausted beside Michael and the red-haired boy realised that he must already have known. Michael made this little choking noise and Ashton looked up at him in alarm but the younger boy pressed his lips together tightly; he’d been about to tell Luke that he knew how he felt but he didn’t want to say that in front of Ashton.

An awkward silence stretched between them but Ashton's hazel eyes kept meeting Luke's and they were staring at each other longingly almost, only confirming to Michael that they must have been spending some time apart.

The red-haired boy tried to keep his head down and give them some space, aware that they seemed to need it, but he looked up when he heard them mention Calum's name.

"I'm worried about him," Michael said quietly and Ashton looked scared.

"I've been so caught up in my own head that I haven't... I haven't been there for Cal," Ashton whispered, eyes welling with tears as he looked at Michael pleadingly.

The red-haired boy shrugged uncomfortably, staring down at the pavement again as the first drops of rain began to fall.

"You're not the only one, Ash. I've been neglecting him too. I was so caught up on making you both better - like it's even that _easy_ \- that I didn't even stop to consider what had hurt him in the first place. If I'd maybe tried to talk that through with him then..."

But Michael's thoughts were running away from him now and all he could think about were all of the times he'd been close to Calum - _too_ close like that night against the tree, with bumping lips and clumsy movements and searching hands...

All the times when Michael had failed to ask Calum what was wrong.

Ashton looked distressed too, like maybe he felt the same. Dimly, Michael was aware of himself snapping at Luke for trying to help and he felt awful for it but, somewhat surprisingly, Ashton was being just as bad as he was. They were horrible when they were stressed; thorny and defensive and prickly. Michael had always pushed people away when he was upset but he didn't realise this was a quality he shared with Ashton until now.

"Maybe you should call him," Luke whispered, cheeks flaming. Ashton's eyes were wet as he did what Luke asked and Michael almost sank down onto the pavement in relief when Calum answered the phone.

"Where are you, Cal?" Ashton asked softly, voice shaking. "We were worried about you. We're _still_ worried."

Michael stood as close to Ashton as he possibly could without actually bumping into him but he couldn't hear much over the phone - just the crackle of static and what sounded like cars rushing past in the gaps between Calum's words.

"You don't need to worry about me, Ash. I'm fine. I'm _always_ fine." Michael flinched at the soft broken tone Calum was speaking in because the lie had never been more obvious than it was now and... and  _damnit_! Calum had never been fine at _all_.

"I'm just annoyed about losing the game I guess. It's nothing," the dark-haired boy said softly. Ashton tried to placate him but Michael wasn't listening anymore, too caught up in his anxious thoughts. He only heard the older boy's words again when Ashton asked Calum where he was.

"I'm just walking," Calum said. "Clearing my head and stuff, y'know?" Calum always used to walk on the bridge out of town when he did that and Michael's fear was making him feel sick. "Look, Ash, can I call you back later or something? I need to go."

Warning bells were ringing in Michael's head now but then he looked up and saw that same faraway look in Luke's cold empty blue eyes, and Michael felt conflicted for letting himself get distracted when there was someone _else_ here who needed him too.

Michael reached out with a trembling hand to squeeze Luke’s broad shoulder gently, moving slowly so that he didn’t scare him (and if the contact _didn’t_ make Michael's palm itch for some reason, the older boy wasn’t going to question it).

There was so much Michael could have said to Luke but he remained stubbornly silent and the blond boy held his gaze, blue eyes widening like he knew what Michael was thinking. When Luke's eyes suddenly brimmed with tears, Michael thought maybe he could.

“My dance teacher said, if my leg doesn’t heal up soon, I won’t be able to lead in the show. I won’t even be able to _perform_ in the show,” Luke said softly but his bottom lip was wobbling and he looked like he was just seconds away from crying.

“I’m so sorry,” Ashton breathed, pulling Luke into a warm hug before he could overthink it. Their love was palpable and Michael felt awful when the curly-haired boy stepped backwards because Luke’s teary eyes were gleaming even more brightly now, and looking at the pair of them _hurt_.

“I’ve gotta go home now I think,” Michael said but he didn’t walk off immediately. He threw caution to the wind instead and, as his cheeks flamed with blood, Michael pulled Luke into an awkward one-armed hug that made the blond boy stiffen in surprise.

“If your leg heals up then I’ll come and watch your dance show,” Michael breathed, voice too soft for Ashton to hear. “As a big fuck you to your dad... okay?”

"I - _okay_." Luke looked tearful as he patted Michael’s shoulder gently with a shaking hand and the red-haired boy forced a watery smile onto his pale face, pulling away and hugging Ashton briefly before he strode off down the road, refusing to look behind him. He didn't want them to see him crying.

The rain (and his tears) had slowed by the time Michael made it back to Graham’s house but he felt something wither inside him when he was walking down the road towards it. Something was wrong – he could feel that on an _atomic_ level almost – but Michael didn’t comprehend what it was until he saw a familiar car parked outside his uncle’s house.

“Oh shit,” Michael breathed as the hairs on the back of his neck rose. It was his mother's car and, as Michael comprehended this, he reeled back in horror when he saw Karen walk past the window inside. This wasn't going to end well.

Michael swallowed past the fear threatening to rise in his chest, briefly considering scratching the side of the car with his door keys before he decided to behave. Michael let himself in as quietly as possible before he knelt to undo his laces but he got a smear of mud on his finger when he was taking his shoes off and it made him feel sick straight away, reminded him of everything he’d touched at school that day. Michael wanted to go and wash his hands upstairs for twenty minutes in hot water but he wasn’t going to get a chance now because Karen had just appeared in the hallway with a furious Graham behind her.

“Michael, I’m _so_  sorry. She wouldn’t leave,” the nurse said pleadingly as soon as he lay eyes on his nephew but Michael shook his head infinitesimally, aware that nothing Graham could have done would have changed this.

“How _dare_ you talk about me as if I’m not here?!” Karen snapped but her emerald eyes were cold when they settled on Michael. “Are you over this ridiculous little tantrum yet?” she demanded and Michael bristled, curling his hands into fists to fight the scratching of the skin on his palms. “I’m prepared to let you come back home if you apologise to me.”

“But I don’t _want_ to come home,” Michael said blankly, voice wobbling because… damnit, that house hadn’t felt like _home_ in years. Not since he was a little kid. “I’m perfectly happy here, thank you.”

“Michael, don’t be stupid –”

“Sorry, let's just think about this for a minute. Why would _you_ want a bisexual boy who likes wearing fucking  _eyeliner_ to move back into your house?” Michael asked sharply and Karen recoiled like he’d hit her. Graham pressed his lips together hard as he watched them but there was something deeply satisfied in the nurse's eyes as he glared at the back of his sister-in-law’s head.

“Stop trying to shock me. It’s not going to work, Michael," Karen said. Apparently she was in denial. "I know you’re just saying these things to –”

“I really am bisexual, mum,” Michael said. “And I _do_ wear eyeliner. I have literally _no_ idea why it bothers you so much but I don’t care anymore. I’m not hiding who I am.”

Michael’s hands were shaking and he hid them behind his back, leaning against the wall in what hopefully looked like a relaxed stance. Michael prayed she couldn’t tell that it was because he felt like he was about to fall down.

“Why are you saying these things?” Karen asked but her voice was quieter now, colder. “I came here to tell you that you could come back to your father and I but... you’re talking about _this_ …”

“Can’t you hear yourself? Everything you hate about me… Mum, it’s fucking _all_ of me! I do these things because it feels right – because it’s who I fucking _am_ – and all you did for years was criticise me! And now you think I’m just going to come home again? So you can try actually finishing me off? I’m okay, thank you. I’d quite like to reach the age of twenty.”

Karen went white and Graham’s eyes were wide with shock, and Michael wondered if he’d gone too far, if he'd said too much. His nails bit into his palm as he scratched at his hand anxiously but he jutted his chin defiantly, praying that the tears in his eyes weren’t visible as Karen swallowed audibly, taking a shaky step away from him.

“You’ve said what you came here to say,” Michael said quietly. “I think you should leave.”

Karen stormed out past him, elbow catching his ribs as she purposefully barged him into the wall. Michael couldn't care less though. She could have punched him in the face on her way past him and it would still have amounted to the same thing, because Karen was _gone_ and Michael hoped she wasn’t coming back.

Michael exhaled shakily, shooting his uncle a watery smile before he sniffed hard, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He was breathing heavily like he’d just ran a race but Michael felt lighter somehow, like he’d lost a worry he hadn’t even realised he was still carrying.

“Nice one, mate,” Graham said in a stunned voice and Michael smiled faintly. “I… I’m making chilli tonight. How does that sound?”

“Awesome,” Michael said, lips tugging up. “Are you doing tortilla chips with it?” he asked hopefully.

“Only if you want me to,” Graham said and Michael snorted, halfway up the stairs now as he gravitated naturally towards the bathroom. His uncle let him go and Michael was grateful for that.

“I _always_ want tortilla chips, Gray,” Michael said, running a hand through his red hair ruefully and trying not to cringe. He really needed a shower. “I’ll see you in a bit." He hesitated, smiling more weakly this time as his pale face finally revealed how tired he was. "And… thank you.”

“For what?” Graham asked, looking up at his nephew through the banisters. Michael smiled tightly.

“For everything.”

The red-haired boy felt calmer from that point on, like the hot water was washing away the grime of the day and taking his anxiety with it. Michael towelled his hair dry messily and sat beside Graham in his pyjamas, instructing the older man on how to play Outlast while Michael ate his chilli.

It was fun and Michael was laughing by the end of it, empty bowl of tortilla chips sitting on the coffee table beside his plate as his head fell to rest on his uncle’s shoulder. Graham was terrible at the game – he jerked in shock every time something scary happened and once he even made a weird squeaking sound that made Michael laugh wheezily for about fifteen minutes.

Michael had almost forgotten his worries for Calum, Luke and Ashton by the end of the evening.

Almost.

“I’m going to call it a night, Mikey. Early start tomorrow and all that,” Graham said apologetically but his nephew shrugged, lips quirking up into a tired smile as he reached out to tap his knuckles against Graham’s. “Don’t stay up too late, okay, mate? You’ll regret it if you fall asleep at school tomorrow.”

Michael rolled his eyes but he was still smiling.

“I’ll be fine, Gray. Goodnight,” Michael said but his eyes were already flickering back towards Outlast and his uncle smiled faintly as he padded upstairs to bed.

Michael didn’t feel anxious at all anymore and the red-haired boy was just feeling pleasantly surprised with himself for being so composed after the day he’d had when his phone rang, splintering the perfect calm.

Michael hit pause on the game, answering it quickly before the sound could startle Graham. His heart jarred in his chest when he saw the caller ID and Michael’s blood ran cold.

“Ash?” Michael asked softly, breath catching when he heard the clear sound of Ashton crying over the phone. Abruptly Michael recalled the pain he sometimes saw saturating Ashton's exhausted face and Michael felt sick because a phone call from the older boy at this time of night could never be a good thing.

“It’s nearly one in the morning,” Michael said stupidly, because he didn’t know what else to say. “What are you –?”

“ _Mikey_ ,” Ashton whispered, and his voice was thick with pain and tears. “I did something really stupid.”

Michael thought again of Ashton’s words that day – “ _I have panic attacks because I’m so_ fucking _useless that I can't even_ breathe _properly when things don’t go right!_ I - _I fucking **cut** and I wish I was **dead** every time I fuck something up._ ” – and Michael’s terror overwhelmed him so absolutely that he actually sounded _calm_ when he spoke next.

“Ashton, you’re scaring me,” Michael said, knees drawn up to his chest as he sat huddled up on the sofa in the darkness. His stress was overwhelming him now and his hands were shaking as he wrapped his free arm tightly around his folded legs. “What have you done? Do I need to call an ambulance or –?”

“ _No!_ I’m okay, I promise,” Ashton said weakly, voice shaking, and Michael relaxed back into the sofa with a little gasp, suddenly aware that his eyes were stinging with tears. “I just… I’ve hurt Luke. _Badly_.”

Michael frowned into the darkness, remembering how empty Luke’s face had looked that day as he told them the truth. Michael had left the pair of them _holding_ each other, goddamnit – how could that have ended badly?

“What do you mean?” Michael whispered, confusion colouring his tone. Ashton’s ragged breathing was starting to sound faintly panicky now and Michael’s eyes widened as he sat up straighter, trying to think about what Graham would say as Michael attempted to help Ashton. Michael hoped he wasn't keeping his uncle awake, even though the nurse probably _would_ have known what to say to help make this better.

“Just calm down, Ash, _please_ ,” the younger boy said, making a conscious effort to lower his voice so that he sounded more soothing. “Take some deep breaths for me, okay?” Michael begged and Ashton inhaled shakily, letting out a little sob before he tried again. This time was better. “Good,” Michael said gently. “That’s _really_ good. Okay, from the beginning now please?”

Ashton hesitated and, for a moment, all Michael could hear was the quiet hitching of the older boy's breath as he fought not to sob. Ashton swallowed audibly and Michael held his breath, resisting the urge to prompt the curly-haired boy again because he knew from experience that this would just make Ashton clam up. The older boy needed to feel like he was in control and Michael staying silent was a good way of encouraging that.

“After you left today,” Ashton began and his voice was weak. “I brought Luke back round mine and then we were kissing and – and _stuff_ happened but I got scared because I don’t want his dad to find out about us in case he hurts Luke and I’ve been thinking about this for _ages_ but I’d never really done anything about it before today and – and I did the only thing I could think of that might _possibly_ keep Luke safe and… I told him I didn’t really love him, Mike. So he’d leave me alone. So his dad wouldn’t find out.”

Michael’s head was spinning at the sudden onslaught of information but his frown was even deeper as the darkness seemed to press closer. Ashton broke off with a sob and Michael had barely even tried to comfort him when the older boy cut across him angrily, apparently refusing to accept any comfort at all.

“No, _please_ don’t try to make me feel better. I don’t deserve it,” Ashton said which was just fucked up. Even despite the Luke and Ashton thing, the curly-haired boy cared more about most people than anyone Michael had ever _met_ and... god, the situation was messed up.

“Luke can’t be happy now,” Ashton continued shakily and he was sniffing again, like he was trying not to cry. “He’s only happy when he’s dancing or playing music or – or with _me_ for some stupid fucking reason I’ll probably _never_ understand and – and he can’t dance with his leg and he doesn’t get to play music anymore because all of _us_ are too fucking messed up to put the time in these days and… and I told him I didn’t _love_ him because I wanted to keep him _safe_.”

“Ash,” Michael said weakly, feeling guilty as the words washed over him, and he had no idea what he was supposed to say to make this any better. The younger boy settled on the truth. “You can’t blame yourself for this. I mean… you were _really_ damn stupid but the intention behind it was good, right? So I’m sure if you just… if you just _explain_ to Hemmings –” Michael faltered, thinking about the moment he’d shared with the blond boy that day and deciding that he deserved better. “Goddamnit, his name is _Luke_ – then he’ll see what you were trying to do and –”

Michael didn’t really know where he was going with this anymore. He was trying to be the bigger person; he was trying to view this from every perspective but it was _hard_ because he could tell how much they loved each other now… and this was all happening behind Luke’s girlfriend’s back.

“That wasn’t the _only_ reason.” Ashton cut through Michael’s thoughts, speaking in a dark little voice that scared the fucking hell out of Michael because Ashton sounded _frightening_ now. “I was jealous too. I was jealous of Aleisha, of how she gets to be with Luke when I can’t, even when he says he loves _me_ and not her.”

Michael didn’t know what to say to him.

Strangely, all he could think of was how much that statement would have annoyed Calum. The dark-haired boy always seemed to get very defensive on Aleisha’s behalf whenever she came up in conversation; Michael had noticed it a little while ago and he’d tried to stop complaining about her because he hardly needed to alienate Calum more than he already had and… and after all, even if she _did_ seem thoroughly unpleasant, Michael didn’t know her and he wasn’t allowed to judge her like that. None of this was _her_ fault after all.

The silence was stretching though and Michael had to say _something_.

“But, Ashton, I… I’m not saying I agree with what you two have been doing but you _know_ why Luke kept this secret. You can’t expect him to –”

“I _know_ that, Mikey!” Ashton exploded, making Michael’s eyes widen in shock. “I fucking _know_! But I don’t think he realises how I’d literally do _anything_ for him! If he broke up with Aleisha and his dad found out and got mad, I – I’d do anything to keep Luke safe, Mike. I – I’d go to fucking _prison_ for him if I had to and –”

Ashton was speaking in that dark little voice again and Michael was scared, starting to panic a little because Ashton might be smaller than he was but he was still well over six foot tall and he was _strong_ too because of his drumming, and there was an edge to Ashton’s voice that Michael had never heard before and he was terrified that Ashton was going to do something stupid.

Luke was gigantic and he wasn’t exactly weak, and if his dad – ‘ _and brothers,_ ’ Michael remembered belatedly – could hurt him then… then maybe this was a fight Ashton couldn’t win.

“Don’t say that, Ash,” Michael pleaded, voice shaking now. His eyes were prickling with boiling tears and he was so fucking scared that this was all going to end badly.

“I’d do _anything_!” Ashton repeated and Michael’s hands were shaking so much that he almost dropped his phone. “And it’s even worse now, because I _know_ that his dad and his brothers are hurting him, and his mum doesn’t put a stop to it, and yet he still won’t let me _help_!”

Ashton inhaled sharply and his voice suddenly became very soft. _Dangerously_ soft. It made Michael’s skin crawl but his breath punched out of him in a gasp at what Ashton said next: “And… and it’s _killing_ me, Mikey.”

Michael didn’t realise he was crying until he felt the tears running down his cheeks and the reality of it shocked him; his sobs were shaking his body violently and he couldn’t hold his tears in anymore because Ashton was still _so_ much more messed up than Michael had ever realised, even after all this time, and Michael’s sobs were choking him as his panic started to make him feel sick.

“It’s _killing_ me.”

Ashton sounded dead and Michael pressed the phone so tightly to his face that it ached as he stared unseeingly at the paused video game, eyes blind with tears.

“ _Ash_?” Michael’s voice sounded strangled and he swallowed in vain against the lump in his throat, choking on another sob as his free hand knotted in his hair, twisting in the strands and ripping as he tore at them. “Ash, it’s okay,” Michael whispered but his tears were streaming relentlessly now as his breath hitched painfully in his chest. “We can fix this. I _promise_ we can fix this –”

“No, we _can’t_ ,” Ashton said and he still sounded lifeless.

“ _Ash_ –” Michael started crying harder, couldn't get anymore words out because they were lodging in his throat and _choking_ him as the burning tears seared down his cheeks.

“I have to go now, Michael," Ashton said woodenly. "I’m sorry for calling so late. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Ash, please, _please_ don’t –”

Michael’s breath escaped him in a ragged gasp when Ashton ended the call and the red-haired boy curled in on himself as he slumped down onto the sofa, arm wrapped achingly tight around himself as he drew in a panicked breath. He felt like someone had kicked him in the chest – felt the way he had when he’d jerked away from Calum that night in the darkness with tears blurring his vision and pain wrapping icily around his heart – and Michael’s sobs were agonising now as his tears dried on his overheated face.

Ashton needed him. Calum needed him. Hell, maybe even _Luke_ needed him now and… and Michael needed –

No one.

He couldn’t let himself have anyone. Not when his best friends needed him to be strong. Not when he was all they had left to rely on.

Michael heard Ashton’s words again – “ _It’s **killing** me._ ” – and the tears boiled over again as he lay there crying silently, holding himself even tighter until the itching of his hands became too much and Michael reached out blindly towards the coffee table, searching for an elastic band.

He hit the remote first, accidentally plunging the room into pitch black, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care when he finally found a band. Michael shoved it around his wrist, snapping it down against the skin as hard as he could, focusing on the stinging bite of pain and not the torment knotting itself tightly around his lungs.

Michael cried until he passed out sometime around three in the morning but his sickness – brought on by nerves and trepidation – didn’t fade until he saw Ashton’s blank, _exhausted_ face at school the next morning because, despite everything that had happened, Ashton was alive. He hadn't done something he couldn't come back from.

Michael didn’t mention the phone call and neither did Ashton.

Calum didn’t even turn up to _school_.

Michael drifted through his classes with glassy eyes and an elastic band pinching tightly around his wrist, snapping it distractedly whenever the panic started to claw in his chest.

Michael felt like he was playing a part almost, like he had the starring role in a film no one wanted to watch anymore and –

And damnit. Fucking _damnit_.

Michael wished it would all **stop**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys liked this chapter!  
> Holy shit, it was like 10000000x more angsty than I'd originally planned (oops) but I was interested to write this one from Mike's PoV and then I just got really carried away... so I'm sorry for that.  
> Fingers crossed you liked it though! (Is liked the right word? Idek anymore...)  
> Anyway thank you very much for reading and please let me know what you thought because it means the world <3


	56. Through The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _There’d been a line between them once – a line they never crossed – but that was gone now… ten miles behind them or rubbed out entirely. Calum’s fear overwhelmed him as he thought about it and his legs felt weak beneath him as his head swam._  
>  _“I don’t know if I can deal with this anymore,” Calum whispered._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so angsty because I suck.  
> Also it almost completely ignored my story plan. Oops.  
> Fingers crossed you guys will like it <3

**_You can't fight the tears that ain't coming,_ **

**_Or the moment of truth in your lies._ **

**_When everything feels like the movies,_ **

**_Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive._ **

_\- Iris, Goo Goo Dolls_

 

Calum hated it when people worried about him.

That was why he didn’t talk to Mali much on the phone anymore. That was why he tried to pretend that everything was okay whenever he talked to his best friends, even though none of them probably believed him.

That was why Calum got ready for school before his parents were awake, pouring a tiny bit of milk into the bottom of a bowl and sprinkling some crumbs of cereal in there so that it would look like he’d eaten. Calum left the bowl out on the counter deliberately, hoping it would annoy his mum because at least that way she’d think he’d eaten something… at least that way she’d have one less thing to worry about.

Calum left the house far too early, shivering in his jumper and jacket as his backpack hung heavy over his shoulders. Calum walked to school alone nowadays – Michael lived closer to the school with Graham and Ashton drove in – but that worked in the football captain’s favour.

He always tried to leave early now – on the days when he actually went in and didn’t just spend the day walking instead – because, if Calum was lucky, he could squeeze in a thirty minute jog before school. He got so cold nowadays that he barely broke a sweat anyway.

Michael was already there when Calum arrived, cheeks flushed from the cold, hands trembling faintly before he buried them in the pockets of his jacket. Michael looked exhausted when Calum walked cautiously towards him in the hallway but Ashton was nowhere to be seen.

“Morning,” Calum said tentatively. It felt like everything they did was tentative now and he hated it so much; he wanted things to go back to the way they had been before, when things were still easy.

“You didn’t come in yesterday,” Michael said quietly, voice thick with something sad and small. “I missed you. I had stuff to tell you.”

Calum swallowed past the lump in his throat, lowering his bag to the floor and leaning heavily against the lockers when bending down made his head swim. Michael’s alarm was muted with exhaustion when Calum said: “Then tell me now.”

The dark-haired boy didn’t know what he’d been expecting; maybe an update on an assignment or a new piece of homework but what Calum got instead was something much worse.

“Apparently we’re not talking about it so please don’t say anything if you see him but... Ashton called me at, like, one in the morning the night before last.” Michael was so exhausted that his face almost looked _grey_ in the early morning light and his shoulders were slumped as he spoke. Calum wanted to hold him but he wasn’t sure he was allowed anymore. He wasn't sure he could _let_ himself.

“What did he call you about?” Calum asked and Michael looked lost.

“Luke,” he answered softly and Calum felt something turn stony on his face as he thought briefly of Aleisha. “He… he was crying about him, Cal,” Michael whispered, his tone faintly uneasy now, like he didn’t feel completely comfortable standing up for their best friend. “I… I think things aren’t the way we thought between them. I don’t think they have been for a very long time.”

Calum didn’t know what to say to that but, luckily for him, Michael filled the silence.

“Ash told me that he lied to Luke, told him he doesn’t _love_ him so that Luke will back off and stay safe because –” Michael froze, eyes widening as he stared at Calum in shock. “Oh my god,” the red-haired boy breathed, mouth falling open for a moment. “You don’t know.”

“Don’t know _what_?” Calum demanded but his voice was several octaves too high now and Michael was putting him on edge, setting him off like gas to a flame.

“Luke’s getting hurt at home,” Michael breathed and there was something darker in his face now, like _he_ was hurting too only... Calum didn’t understand _why_. “His dad… his brothers… They’ve been _hurting_ him.”

Calum’s legs felt weak beneath him as he realised with a horrible wave of fear that Aleisha’s worries that night in the pub had come true. God, Calum had to tell her. He _had_ to but… but _fuck_ , it was going to tear her apart… and then she might confront Luke about it. He might ask her how she _knew_ and… and then Calum might lose her.

The dark-haired boy’s shaking hand somehow found its way onto Michael’s shoulder and his stomach lurched sickeningly.

“How… how do you know?” Calum asked weakly, voice shaking as his fingers tightened in Michael’s jumper. There were students passing them but they gave Michael a wide berth and something about the expression on Calum’s gaunt face made them steer clear.

“I walked home with Ash and Luke… after the football match,” Michael said softly and Calum’s face tightened with something like pain. The warning bell rang to inform them that they had five minutes to get to class and Calum tried to leave but Michael’s hand settling lightly on his shoulder kept him from turning away.

“You were on the bridge out of town, right?” the older boy asked softly and Calum’s muscles tensed reflexively when he remembered the dizzying feeling of almost falling. “That’s where you always used to go when you needed to think.” Michael bit his full bottom lip hard, emerald green eyes burning into Calum’s as worry coloured the older boy’s face. “You know how dangerous it is up there, Cal. You shouldn’t walk up there.”

“I just needed space,” Calum said stupidly but his heart was hammering in his chest now and he couldn’t deal with this anymore. “Michael, please let me go. I have maths.”

The day passed slowly, like fingernails dragged across a blackboard. Calum’s shoulders stayed hunched with strain and he was worrying so much about what Michael had told him that he barely focused on his lessons.

Ashton seemed to be avoiding them too which didn’t help. The curly-haired boy looked jumpy and so panic-stricken when Calum finally cornered him in the corridors that the younger boy let him go without saying a word.

He just had to hope that Ashton would come back to them in the end… that he felt safe enough to.

Calum skipped lunch, hiding out in the library since that was a place he was fairly certain Michael or the guys from the football team wouldn’t think to look. He sat behind the shelves in the history section, knees pulled up tight to his chest so that he could ignore how fat he felt for once.

Calum wanted to text Aleisha to tell her that he needed to talk to her but he didn’t know how to put into words that her worries for Luke weren’t unfounded and it felt too harsh to just say it outright. What if Aleisha read the message in class and got upset? What if she was with Luke at school right now and he saw it?

Calum settled for a ‘ **hey leish, need to talk to you about something important. hope you’re doing okay x** ’ in the end but it didn’t feel like enough and Calum was still worrying about it when the bell rang to signify the end of lunchtime.

They had science last period and Calum’s heart was heavy with guilt in his chest as he sank down into his usual seat beside Violet. Her dark eyes were concerned when she looked at him.

“Hi,” she breathed as their teacher bustled into the room with a stack of mock test papers. For once, Calum welcomed them; it meant an hour with no talking, where he didn’t have to pretend to feel okay. “I’m really sorry about the football match, Cal.”

Calum forced himself to smile at her but he wasn’t sure it touched his eyes. Violet recoiled instead, looking uncertain.

“It’s okay,” Calum whispered as his eyes settled on Michael across the classroom. “It doesn’t really matter anyway.”

The last lesson flew by – maybe because Calum didn’t want to go home – and the dark-haired boy dragged his feet so much as he packed his bag that he was one of the only students left in the room. Calum found Michael waiting for him in the hallway outside and Violet – who was hovering outside too as she checked her phone – looked between the two of them curiously when she saw Calum’s trembling fingers curling unconsciously around Michael’s wrist. Violet smiled faintly as she walked away but Michael couldn’t quite bring himself to smile back.

“She likes you,” the red-haired boy told Calum accusingly as soon as they’d left the building. Calum shrugged weakly, hands falling down to hang limply by his sides as he realised what he was doing.

“Unlucky for her,” Calum muttered and his laughter sounded broken as they walked out into the sunlight. “Figured this would’ve stopped bothering you by now,” the dark-haired boy added, finishing the rest of the sentence in his head: ‘ _You know, because I’ve made you cum. Because I kissed you and not her._ ’

Calum’s head was too full, his thoughts a whirling mess that made him feel seasick almost, like the pavement was moving beneath his feet and dragging him backwards. His expression twisted and he flinched as a lot of emotions he’d been trying his hardest to ignore fought their way to the surface – loneliness, need, lust, _love_.

Calum’s anxiety quickened his breathing when he glanced over and found Michael watching him, his concerned emerald eyes so soft that it made Calum’s lungs feel like they were filling with water. Michael’s arm was bumping against Calum’s as they walked along side by side and the dark-haired boy quickly averted his gaze to the ground instead, a faint frown creasing his brow.

There’d been a line between them once – a line they never crossed – but that was gone now… ten miles behind them or rubbed out entirely. Calum’s fear overwhelmed him as he thought about it and his legs felt weak beneath him as his head swam.

“I don’t know if I can deal with this anymore,” Calum whispered. They were walking so close now that Michael’s fingers brushed his and Calum shuddered. He half wanted to take his best friend’s hand but he refused to let himself, curling his hands into fists instead as he pressed his lips together, not thinking to elaborate.

“Can’t deal with what?” Michael prompted gently and Calum’s chocolate brown eyes were swimming with tears when he looked up at him.

“This,” Calum whispered, voice flat, eyes prickling with tears. “Us.”

“ _Us_?” Michael repeated weakly, betrayal and unhappiness battling each other for residence in his pained expression. “Us… what? Being friends?”

Michael pulled away from him jerkily and Calum’s eyes stung because his scarred arm felt cold now that Michael wasn’t touching it.

“No…” Calum’s voice was shaking and there wasn’t much he was sure of anymore but he knew he didn’t want to lose Michael entirely. “No, I… I mean _this_. Us as we are _now_ … whatever the _fuck_ this is! I… I don’t know what we _are_ anymore!”

Michael was silent for so long that Calum didn’t think he was going to say anything but, when the red-haired boy spoke quietly, he surprised Calum just like he always did.

“Well… what do you _want_ us to be?”

“I don’t know,” Calum whispered. “Just friends?” _Lies, lies, **fucking** lies_.

Michael smiled gently like his heart _wasn't_ tearing itself apart in his chest.

“Then let’s just be friends,” Michael said quietly, patting Calum on the arm when they reached the dark-haired boy’s road. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

No more skype calls. No more cuddling. No more _anything_ apparently.

Michael kept the smile on his face until Calum had turned away but the dark-haired haired boy was already more than halfway down the road when Michael’s face crumpled.

Calum glanced back over his shoulder and his eyes widened when he saw Michael hurriedly wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“Mikey?” Calum called softly but the red-haired boy’s cheeks were flaming now and he shook his head fiercely, refusing to meet the younger boy’s gaze.

“Just go home, Calum,” Michael said through gritted teeth but his nails were biting into his palm as he spoke, fingers tangling in the elastic band around his wrist.

Michael wheeled away – a flash of blood-red hair in the sunlight – and Calum walked down his driveway with wide eyes, barely with it enough to offer Daryl Clifford a weak wave where the mousy man was getting something out of the garage. Michael’s father looked wide-eyed as he stared in the direction his son had vanished in and Calum felt uneasy as he let himself quickly into the house.

He still had no idea why Michael had left home but, after the pain he’d just seen saturating the older boy’s face, Calum was pretty sure he wasn’t allowed to ask him.

The dark-haired boy found his mother in the kitchen once he’d carefully put his bag and shoes away. Calum kept his jacket on for the moment, arms folded over his chest as he tried to subtly warm himself. He was so cold now and it was horrible.

“Good day?” Joy asked when she saw Calum lingering in the doorway. Her son shrugged, mumbling something under his breath. Joy’s brow creased and she seemed to be trying to cheer him up as she turned to face him.

“Did you see Violet today?” his mum asked in a purposefully jovial voice. One of her horrible green smoothies was sitting on the counter in a tall glass. Calum pretended not to see where she’d hastily covered a bruise on her face with concealer.

“Violet?” Calum asked blankly before he remembered – almost too late – the lie he’d told his parents about her being his girlfriend. “Oh, I – Yeah… we sit together in science so…”

“Right.” Joy looked uncomfortable before her brow suddenly creased. “I… I wish you hadn’t left your bowl out this morning… It made the kitchen look so untidy.” Her hand twitched up, like she was about to touch the bruise on her face before she regained control of herself.

Calum was mortified.

“Dad hurt you because I made a mess of the kitchen?”

Joy shook her head frantically, shushing him even though they were alone in the house.

“Don’t!” she hissed but her eyes were shining with tears when Calum walked over to her, fingers shaking as he gently held her jaw, angling her face so that he could see where the bruise spread beneath the makeup.

“You’ve got to get out of here, mum,” Calum whispered and his eyes were welling with tears as his hands fell down limply. “You need to leave before he gets worse.”

“Calum, _no_! I couldn’t leave you here. I _couldn’t_ ,” Joy argued weakly as a tear slid down her cheek. “And… and besides, he doesn’t mean to… to hurt me. I know he doesn’t.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Calum whispered but Joy’s face paled suddenly as they heard a car in the driveway. Usually that was Calum’s warning to go upstairs and hide in his room but he didn’t do that today; he got his homework out of his bag instead and sat down at the kitchen table, books open in front of him as he copied things down into his notepad.

He could tell his presence was annoying his father but Calum stayed right where he was, head down as he worked, glancing up out of the corner of his eye to see the relief saturating Joy’s face as she washed up at the sink, marigolds on.

David took his dinner from her and carried it into the living room, eating off his tray with a furious expression on his face as he glared at the television. Calum couldn’t have cared less because he’d just bought his mother a few hours of respite and he’d do it again in a heartbeat if this was all it took.

Calum even ate a little of the food Joy set down beside him, eating a forkful of steak and green beans as he finished his English homework. It was an essay based on the book they were studying – Of Mice And Men – and Calum had to write two thousand words on his interpretation of how Curley’s wife’s felt about her husband. Thinking about his parents, the dark-haired boy found it almost _painfully_ easy to write.

Calum only went upstairs when it reached eight o’clock and David decided that he was going to the pub. Joy pulled Calum into a hug the moment her husband left but Calum stiffened, too startled by the contact to pull away when Joy’s hand settled on his ribs through his school jumper.

“Calum?” she asked weakly and he jerked back. She must have felt how fat he was. That _had_ to be it. “Calum… have... have you been eating?” Her dark eyes settled on his half-eaten plate and a frown creased her brow. “Yes, you have. You _are_. I see you but... Cal, what have you –?”

“Please don’t.” Calum’s voice was soft and measured but his hands were shaking. “I won’t tell you to leave here… if you let this go, okay? Please. Just… _please_.”

Joy looked nothing short of alarmed now but Calum took the opportunity to scarper, stumbling up the stairs so quickly that he almost fell before he reached the top.

Calum turned his music on loudly when he locked himself in the bathroom, playing a Korn album that was so heavy he couldn’t discern the words above the pounding of the shower on the tiles.

There was blood in Calum’s sick again – more this time – and his head was spinning so much that he had to sit down on the shower floor for a little while, shuddering beneath the hot spray as his fingers pinched the already-bruised skin stretched over his ribs and he tried to process how he could still feel so fat when his body was wasting away.

Calum could hear his mum crying downstairs when he finally left the bathroom but he didn’t go down to talk to her. There was nothing he could say that would make this any better and the aching in his stomach felt like someone had tried to gut him with a knife almost so he figured maybe it was better that he shut himself in his room instead.

Calum found the Black Swan DVD and put it into his laptop, and he cut the crook of his elbow while he waited for the menu to appear. The music was washing over him as he clamped a handful of tissues down over the cuts. His breath caught in his throat when his eyes settled on his reflection in the mirror hanging over his desk.

His dark hair was fluffy from the shower but his cheeks were red and his dark eyes were too bright in his exhausted face.

Calum looked like he was burning out.

He turned the lights off, settling down on his bed and curling up beneath the duvet like he was trying to _hide_  as shivers started to rack through him again in the cool air of his bedroom.

The film was playing but it was so familiar now that Calum’s eyes began to droop shut and, even when the final dance began to play and he heard the front door slam open downstairs as a very drunk David returned home, Calum didn’t move. He didn’t even listen to the shouting – he just pushed his earphones deeper and fought not to sob.

He didn’t care about anything anymore - at least that's what he was telling himself.

Calum just wanted to make it through the night.

The dark-haired boy slammed his laptop shut when Nina spoke her final words – “ _I felt it. Perfect. I was **perfect**._ ” – and Calum wiped his eyes dry of tears as he settled down more comfortably on the mattress, sore arm tucked beneath the pillow as his exhaustion washed over him like waves.

Somewhere outside, a dog was howling up into the darkness.

Calum thought he knew how it felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought :) <3


	57. Set Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _The anchor seemed fitting somehow, felt like all of the promises Michael had made to himself since he’d given up on loving Calum were going to stick this time because the anchor was going to keep him from drifting off… from getting lost in the swirling mess of Calum’s tear-wet eyes._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this isn't that long - I don't have much time today and I didn't want to not update again so I hope this is okay! <3

**_You’re never gonna love me, so what’s the use?_ **

**_What’s the point in playing a game you’re gonna lose?_ **

**_What’s the point in saying you love me like a friend?_ **

**_What’s the point in saying it’s never gonna end?_ **

_\- Lies, Marina & The Diamonds_

 

Michael’s head was a mess.

He switched between feeling so anxious about everything he almost couldn’t breathe and not giving a damn about anything – there was no in-between, and it was utterly exhausting and frustrating. Michael’s moods changed as fast at lightning, switching so quickly that he felt like he was going to give himself whiplash sometimes.

It hurt that Calum had said he only wanted them to be friends but, despite it taking _months_ , Michael had finally managed to convince himself that he could have accepted that… _if_ Calum had treated him like a friend… but he wasn't. He stared at Michael with this warped mixture of longing and sheer terror instead, and being around him made Michael’s head spin now and… and _damnit_ , he wanted out.

Michael was fuming with himself that he was still letting this get to him because… god, Calum had already seen him crying that day all those months ago outside the younger boy’s house and Michael used to have better control over himself than this. That was when Michael decided he was going to do his utmost not to care anymore, to do everything he could to make a fucking _point_ because that felt like the only thing he still had control over anymore.

With that in mind, Michael went into downtown Sydney and visited every single tattoo parlour he could find until one of them would serve him without ID. He got an anchor tattooed on his thumb and it didn’t even bother him because the niggling bite of the needle was a welcome distraction, and the tattoo parlour was so clean and ordered that Michael felt like he could breathe the easiest he had done in _weeks_.

The anchor seemed fitting somehow, felt like all of the promises Michael had made to himself since he’d given up on loving Calum were going to stick this time because the anchor was going to keep him from drifting off… from getting lost in the swirling mess of Calum’s sorry, tear-wet eyes.

Michael went out to clubs a lot more, sometimes with friends from gaming or school, and sometimes just alone. He drank until everything was blurry and his stomach ached, and he wanted to cry because it didn’t help him – _nothing_ helped him – but it was better than it used to be because, at least when he got upset and wanted to be safe at home, he didn’t have to battle with his mother anymore while Daryl watched uselessly from the corner of the room, eyes sorrowful and afraid.

Michael could just go home to Graham instead, where he was _safe_.

The nurse was growing worried about him though; that much was obvious in the pointed questions Graham asked and the frown lines creasing his brow. He was trying though and Michael just appreciated it a lot because Graham told his nephew that his tattoo was cool, and he made sure Michael was keeping his new eyebrow-piercing clean so that he didn’t lose it.

The teachers didn’t seem so happy but Michael kind of expected that these days.

They’d written him off as a lost cause, he was fairly certain, because Michael might be smart but he was mouthy and loud too… the sort of student who might push their desk over and storm out of the building if something didn’t go right during a lesson.

Michael wanted to be bitter about it but he didn’t think he could really blame them for thinking that because he felt the muscles in his jaw tighten whenever Calum sat down beside him, felt his emerald green eyes turn ever so slightly cold as he fought against his feelings, and it seemed to make the teachers jumpy because they kept watching Michael with poorly-disguised wariness, like he was about to set fire to the school or something.

Ashton was possibly the only person at school who _hadn’t_ detected the new aura of ‘ _go fuck yourself_ ’ that Michael was doing his best to exude.

The three of them were at lunch now and Calum was actually sitting with them for once, head bent over his phone as texted someone and politely declined Ashton's offer of crisps. Calum always seemed to be texting people now – ‘ _Probably girls since he loves them so much_ ,’ Michael thought bitterly before he tried to convince himself not to be petty – but it felt like the dark-haired boy wasn’t even present anymore and that cut Michael deep.

Ashton seemed to be hurting at the moment too. He looked like he wasn’t sleeping and he seemed even more screwed up than he had done in those weeks leading up to the late-night phone call the red-haired boy had received. Ashton never talked about Luke anymore and if the blond boy’s name ever came up then Ashton’s eyes became panicked as he froze.

He didn’t look like that now though.

He looked drained and empty instead, like all of the life had been sucked out of him and he was just going through the motions.

The curly-haired boy had science homework and he was frowning down at the sheet through tired eyes as he crammed half a chicken sandwich into his mouth.

“Wait…” he mumbled around his food as he looked at the first question. “I can't answer this if - Guys, are tadpoles baby turtles or… or frogs?”

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” Michael said teasingly and he felt Calum flinch beside him, wanted to take satisfaction in it except he _couldn’t_ because he’d just said something to deliberately upset the dark-haired boy and that went against every fibre of Michael’s being.

“They’re frogs,” the red-haired boy muttered, expression downcast now as he dropped his hands into his lap, staring at the black anchor inked into his skin because it was a million times better than an elastic band.

Michael’s stomach lurched sickeningly when he looked away and found Calum’s dark pained eyes fixed on his face, and it wasn’t fair that Michael still wanted to kiss him now, wasn’t fair that Calum still had this hold over him… wasn’t fair that there were all of these girls and boys around – who were funny and clever and good-looking – but Michael still only had eyes for **Calum**.

They’d said 'through it all' when they were kids and _damnit_ , they’d been right. Michael didn’t think his feelings were going to fade away for _anything_ and he couldn’t cope with it anymore because he felt like he was breaking.

Something else weird had happened at school too... something else that Michael had kept a secret from Calum.

Michael had been tasked with giving out the test papers in maths – which was literally one of his worst nightmares because he had to touch _so_ many people and he could never get to his anti-bacterial stuff quick enough – and Charlie Barker had said _thank you_ to him.

He’d spoken to Michael out of choice and had actually been _civil_ , and Michael hadn’t even felt the urge to put his fist through the wall. Michael still hated him probably and he was almost certain the other boy felt the same about him too but… maybe the former football player could sense the tension between Michael and Calum. Maybe he could see that they weren’t close anymore.

Maybe he’d had a problem with _Calum_ instead of Michael… or maybe the other boy was thinking something else entirely and Michael was miles off the mark. It didn’t really matter after all; the red-haired boy didn’t even know why he was giving that homophobic arsehole the time of day after the things he’d said to Michael.

The red-haired boy didn’t realise how low he’d sunk in his despair until he went out to a club one night and got with the first person who looked at him with dark eyes as their tongue darted out to wet their lips.

Michael’s tattooed hand wrapped around the guy’s wrist and the red-haired boy was so drunk that it was easy to pretend they were a stranger, easy to palm the guy until he was so hard he was straining inside his jeans as Michael locked the cubicle door clumsily and sank down onto his knees in the empty bathroom.

All Michael had to do when he was choking on the guy’s cock as his eyes burnt with tears was imagine that it was Calum and – _fuck_ – then it was easy to palm himself through his jeans until he came, body curling in on itself as the guy’s back arched and he climaxed too.

Everything went to shit when Michael opened his prickling eyes though because the shadowy face had morphed into a sickeningly familiar one.

When Michael looked up and saw Charlie Barker gazing down at him with unfocused eyes as he panted, Michael slipped off the ledge inside his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed you guys liked this update.  
> Thank you for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3


	58. No Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _The red-haired boy was like a shooting star heading straight for the sun now, moving so fast that he seemed to blur at the edges… and Calum was afraid that Michael was going to burn out._  
>  _The sparkle in his beautiful emerald green eyes had flickered out like firelight and Calum hated himself for pushing Michael away._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to use these lyrics from the beginning of this fic so I'm feeling very proud of myself right now. Because, yes, I really am that lame.  
> Also I'm sorry this took me a little while to update but I just wanted to make sure I was in the right mindset to write it properly. Also I've been working on "you keep eternity" which I'm currently uploading too so I hope you guys will like that!  
> Anyway, enjoy :)

**_We grow apart._ **

**_I watch you on the red horizon._ **

**_Your lion's heart,_ **

**_Will protect you under stormy skies,_ **

**_And I will always be listening for your laughter and your tears._ **

_\- Scars, James Bay_

 

It was shocking how much could change in just two months.

Ashton had retreated back into himself so much that, even when they were in the same room, he might as well not have been there and Michael…

God, _Michael_.

Calum didn’t know what was happening with him anymore and it was starting to scare him because he knew he probably wasn’t allowed to be worried these days – he’d sacrificed that right when he’d rejected Michael – but the red-haired boy was like a shooting star heading straight for the sun now, moving so fast that he seemed to blur at the edges… and Calum was afraid that Michael was going to burn out.

The sparkle in his beautiful emerald green eyes had flickered out like firelight and Calum hated himself for pushing Michael away.

Ashley was starting to do the same thing too and it scared Calum a lot. She’d dyed her greenish-blue hair back to dark brown and it was a lot shorter now, and the bruise-like circles under her eyes never seemed to fade no matter how much makeup she tried to hide them with.

All Ashley seemed to do was go out clubbing nowadays, drinking until her head was numb and the pain she seemed to feel wasn’t so raw. She’d been sleeping around a lot too which Calum guessed meant she was getting high more frequently since she'd confessed to him before that that was the only time she liked sex, and he wanted to tell her that he was worried about her but that felt like the most hypocritical thing in the world.

There was a tiny stupid part of him that was _angry_ at her too… jealous for something she hadn’t even done… because Ashley was sleeping around and Calum was pretty sure Michael was now too – and that didn’t cut him deeper than a blade; it fucking _didn’t_ – and Calum was afraid the pair of them were going to sleep together without realising it.

They went to the same clubs after all. They were both falling apart.

It _could_ happen…

Calum didn’t know why it bothered him so much; maybe because he knew Ashley still liked him a little... maybe because he was so in love with Michael that it _stung_... or _maybe_ it was because it might happen since they were both trying to get over **him**.

God, Calum had made a fucking mess of things.

The only upside was that Aleisha was a lot easier to hang around with these days. She was clearly upset and didn’t want to talk about whatever it was that was hurting her, and she knew Calum didn’t want to discuss his own various issues so they just spent a lot of time relaxing instead. They listened to music and watched films, and tried to pretend that their world wasn’t crumbling to dust around them.

Calum still hadn’t told Aleisha what he’d learnt about Luke yet though but… but they’d both been so busy revising and trying to pretend that they weren’t falling apart at the seams that he just hadn’t got round to it yet probably…

Calum wished he believed that, wished he believed that he really _was_ just busy and that he wasn’t potentially prolonging whatever shit Luke had to deal with because Calum was scared of messing things up by upsetting Aleisha.

The dark-haired boy didn’t think he was allowed to be angry with Ashton and Luke anymore, even _though_ they were being selfish… because maybe Calum was being just as bad… just not in the same ways.

Maybe Calum was the most selfish of _all_ of them but it had taken him until now to realise; it certainly felt like he was sometimes.

He was still worrying about that when he got a phone-call from Mali on Monday night.

School had been rough and the coach was starting to watch Calum anxiously from the side-lines now whenever the football captain was running a training session. Calum wanted to hate him for that but he couldn’t anymore… not when he felt so brittle that he was about to shatter into shards of broken glass whenever the wind blew in the wrong direction.

“Hey, squirt,” Mali said and her voice was so familiar that Calum’s knees felt wobbly beneath him. He sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, dropping his head into his hand and trying to get his breath back. He’d been doing press-ups on his bedroom floor, as many as he could do before his arms shook too hard and he had to lie down – that had become his evening routine now and Calum relished it because it felt like one of the only things he could control anymore – but he felt weak when he lay down on his duvet, phone gripped tightly in his shaking hands.

“Hi, Mali,” Calum said softly. They’d had to stop skyping each other now ever since David had found out. He’d threatened to throw Calum’s laptop down the stairs so they’d decided on phone-calls instead, although Calum had had to make up an excuse about it.

He didn’t want Mali to realise how bad things had got at home.

She might come back to help and then _she’d_ get hurt too –

Or maybe she wouldn’t come back at all but… but Calum couldn’t afford to think like that… not if he was planning on not breaking down on the phone.

“How’ve you been?” Mali asked easily over the line. Calum could hear the faintest sound of laughter in the background, the chatter of the television turned down low. There was rain pounding against the glass of his bedroom windows and Calum wondered if Mali could hear that too… wondered if she could picture it running down the surface like tears as the world turned dark outside.

“I’ve been okay,” Calum allowed and that was so laughable that the smile in his voice was actually audible, and Mali didn’t question it luckily.

“Well, I’m very glad then,” she said, sounding deeply relieved. “You’ve had me worried, Cal. These last few phone-calls… I don’t know… I just had a bad feeling, y’know? Like you were keeping something from me I guess…" She fell quiet for a moment before her tone became slightly defensive. "Don’t laugh at me, squirt. I know it’s dumb.”

“You’re not dumb,” Calum breathed but his eyes were stinging. “Mali, I –”

Calum pressed his lips together hard, eyes faintly panic-stricken as he stared straight up at his ceiling. He didn’t know what he’d been going to say.

’ _Mali, I need you to come home? Mali, I’m scared because dad’s been hurting mum and she won’t leave? Mali, if you don’t come home, I’m worried I’m going to end up killing myself?_ ’

None of them seemed like very good conversation starters.

“Mali, I hope you’re having a nice time in Canberra,” Calum said faintly and the words tasted sour in his mouth but he heard his older sister’s gentle sigh of relief, and the dark-haired boy couldn’t regret his words. They weren’t a lie after all and he _was_ glad she was okay – he didn’t want this to have been for nothing.

“I really do love it here,” she said slowly but there was something in her voice now that made Calum pay better attention. “I… I don’t think I’m coming back home, Cal,” she whispered and Calum’s breath stuttered out of him in a gasp before he could hold it in. “At least not anytime soon,” she amended quietly. “I… I’m _happy_ here… with Harry… with my new friends… and I don’t want to lose this, y’know? It feels good.”

“Sounds it,” Calum murmured and his eyes were prickling worse than ever now but his breath came a little easier almost, like this was the way things were _supposed_ to be.

Calum was kind of praying she wouldn’t come home anyway. Everything had fallen to pieces once she’d left and it might hurt her to see everything ripped up now.

She might blame _herself_ and that was never okay.

“If you’re happy then… then you should stay there,” Calum said, even though it hurt so bad to let her go. He knew it was the right thing to do though. Mali deserved to be so, _so_ happy.

What Calum wanted didn’t come into it anymore.

“Thank you,” Mali said but her voice sounded wet. “But… Cal… if you ever need me to come home – for _anything_ – then I want you to tell me, okay? Because I don’t care how silly you might think you’re being or how happy I am here… You always, _always_ come first, okay? You’re my baby brother. I **love** you.”

Calum’s tears boiled over but he forced his eyes shut, struggling to stay calm as he curled up onto his side. He couldn’t even sit on his bed anymore because it hurt his coccyx but lying like this was okay for a little while, until his ribs started to ache at least.

God, what had Calum fucking _done_ to himself?!

“Thank you,” the dark-haired boy breathed. He forced a smile onto his face so that his voice wouldn’t sound like his heart was tearing itself apart inside him. “You got any plans for later then?” he asked. It was the weakest subject change he could think of but at least it distracted Mali from him falling apart on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, we’re going out to get some food soon – cheeseburgers, I think Hal wanted – and then I’m meeting up with Melanie and we’re going to watch Harry play with his band at the student union. It should be fun.”

“That sounds nice,” Calum said and there was a moment of quiet during which Harry could suddenly be heard speaking in the background, voice low and amused as he confirmed the cheeseburger decision. It took Calum a moment to identify his accent and the dark-haired boy managed a tiny bubble of dry laughter when he said: “He’s _English_?”

“I know!” Mali said in a hushed voice but she sounded like she was smiling now. There was another pause, apparently as Mali saw the time. “Uh… Cal, I think we’re ready to go out now actually. Will you be okay if I…?”

“Sure,” Calum said, forcing another weak smile onto his face so that he could pretend he wasn't about to start crying. “I hope you have a great time. I love you.”

“Thank you,” Mali grinned. “I love you too, squirt. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mali,” Calum said but she was already gone.

Calum rose on shaky legs, letting his phone fall down onto his bed before he cracked his bedroom window open, nudging it until it was as wide as he could get it. Calum could hear the sound of the television downstairs and the quiet splashing as Joy washed up so he knew his parents weren’t going to come upstairs anytime soon; that was why Calum wasn’t worried when he dug the squashed packet of cigarettes and his lighter out of the pocket of his skinny jeans... and they weren't tight at all anymore but... but Calum was still _fat_ and... and he didn't understand what was happening to him.

The edge of the windowsill cut into his ribs when he leant against it and Calum closed his eyes for a moment as the cold night air bit at his exposed face. He lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply and sheltering it from the damp with one trembling hand as the rain ran icily down his cheeks.

Calum smoked until the burning of his lungs was more painful than the tears boiling in his eyes.

It didn’t make him feel any better though but that was no surprise anymore.

Nothing ever did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Did anyone see my really shitty 'sounds good feels good' joke? Because I was proud of that wow... :'P)  
> Thank you all so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought by leaving comments and kudos :) <3
> 
> Also I've finally posted one of my slam poems onto YouTube and I'd really love to hear what you guys think if you've got a couple of minutes spare? It's about consent and you can watch it here if you like:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mje7I8M6ZiQ


	59. Dying Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _It felt like another world to lie there smoking with Aleisha, bathed in amber light as she pressed up warmly against Calum’s side._  
>  _“I love you, Leish,” the older boy said, soft and sad as his dark curls tumbled across his forehead. Aleisha’s lips twitched weakly but she still looked lost._  
>  _“I love you too, Cal.”_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, this is without a doubt the angstiest chapter I think I've ever written for Tempest...  
> This took me about six hours to write and I don't even know how that happened.  
> Trigger warning for mentions of rape and self-harm (the latter of which is pretty graphic). I want all of you to be safe <3

**_My brain is scattered._ **

**_You can be Alice;_ **

**_I'll be the Mad Hatter._ **

**_I'm peeling the skin off my face,_ **

**_'Cause I really hate being safe._ **

_\- Mad Hatter, Melanie Martinez_

 

The sun was setting when Calum showed up at Aleisha’s house on Friday evening. The rays painted her tanned skin a rosy pink and her long flowing hair looked like burnished gold when she pulled the older boy into a tight hug. She smelt like apples and smoke. Calum never wanted to let her go.

"I missed you," he said, voice faintly choked although he hoped she wouldn't realise this.

“I missed you too, silly,” Aleisha said softly as they drew apart. Her eyes were twinkling though and he was struck by just how _well_ she knew him now.

Abruptly, Calum remembered that night at Aleisha’s house after Ashley had gone home. He remembered her fingers stroking his hair, her arms wrapped securely around him as he let his head fall to rest in the crook of her neck…

Calum remembered thinking that – if they were normal – this was when they would kiss.

He was thinking it again now as he stood there in the dying light of another painful day. He didn’t really _want_ to probably but… everything would be so easy with her. Calum could see it for a moment – nice house, two kids… just like they were _supposed_ to – but it wouldn’t have felt right, because Calum loved Michael and Aleisha deserved someone who wasn’t broken.

“Come on in,” Aleisha said softly, shutting the front door carefully behind Calum as he entered the otherwise-empty house. The sunlight looked like fire through the distorted glass in the panes on the front door and he shuddered as he followed her up the shadowy stairs, palm flat on the peeling wallpaper to steady himself. “Ashley’s not here yet.”

Calum felt relief surge through him at that, although he felt terrible for it.

Calum had been finding it increasingly difficult to relax around the older girl recently… probably ever since she’d found out that he made himself sick (although, to be honest, knowing that she liked him made Calum feel kind of awkward too).

He let out a soft sigh as he followed Aleisha into her bedroom, momentarily blinded by the late sunlight piercing the quiet stillness through the smeary window. He wished things could be easy.

“Make yourself at home,” Aleisha said as she sat cross-legged on the carpet beside her bed. Calum flopped down onto the beanbag, tired eyes falling shut for a moment as his dark curls fell back from his forehead. He was dressed in a black plaid shirt beneath a jumper and jeans but he was still cold, even lying in the sunlight.

“Smoke?” he asked and Aleisha shrugged, getting up to crack the window open.

“Be my guest,” she said. “Mum and dad are staying away for a couple of days so it’s not like they’re around to smell it.” Calum nodded in agreement as he reached into his pocket for the last cigarette in the crumpled packet. Aleisha watched him with curious eyes as he lit it, fingers trembling faintly as he let the flame flicker out.

“How do you even afford proper cigarettes?” she asked as she removed the familiar battered tin from her desk drawer. “I’ve been living off goddamn roll-ups for like three years.”

“Well… pocket money?” Calum said awkwardly but he was more focused on the burn of smoke in his lungs as he inhaled deeply. He felt a cough building in his throat and Calum fought against it, chocolate brown eyes prickling with tears.

"How much pocket money do you _get_?" Aleisha asked doubtfully. “Smoking is an expensive habit.” Calum bit his lip, shrugging as he settled down more comfortably. She lit her roll-up and held it between her lips as she reached to comb her fingers through her sandy-coloured hair, easing the tangles out. The tension in her shoulders melted away when she took a drag of the cigarette.

“I don’t get _that_ much,” Calum admitted. "But mum gives me money sometimes... just randomly, see?" Calum swallowed past the lump building in his throat… past the _lie_...

‘ _Because she feels awful that I have to see dad hurt her_ ,’ Calum thought tearfully. ‘ _Because dad won't let her go out so she never gets a chance to spend it anymore._ '

"Huh," Aleisha said, clearly thinking about the prospect of being given money for nothing. "Lucky."

Calum shuddered, not wanting to think about that anymore. He slid out of the beanbag so that his head was cushioned on it instead and, after a moment’s thought, Aleisha curled up beside him, cheek resting on his shoulder as she smoked. She was careful not to drop any ash on him but she was close enough that her eyelashes brushed his jaw when she wriggled closer.

It felt like another world to lie there smoking with Aleisha, bathed in amber light as she pressed up warmly against Calum’s side.

“I love you, Leish,” the older boy said, soft and sad as his dark curls tumbled across his forehead. Aleisha’s lips twitched weakly but she still looked lost.

“I love you too, Cal.”

A comfortable silence grew between them as they finished their cigarettes. By the time Calum was done, the sun had already set outside, painting the skies with burning streaks of onyx and fiery ruby.

“You never told me what your text meant,” Aleisha said suddenly, quiet voice breaking the perfect calm.

Beside her, Calum stiffened infinitesimally.

He didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t want to tell her _at all_ but… but he owed her this and a whole lot more besides. Calum refused to keep something _else_ so important from her. It wasn’t fair.

“The text was about Luke,” he said heavily and anxiety flared to life in Aleisha’s eyes like gas to a flame. Calum’s hand found hers and he felt sick with himself when he felt her shaking. “Do… do you remember what you said that night in the pub? About being worried Luke was… getting hurt?”

Although she’d never said it outright, that was the conclusion Calum had drawn and, when Aleisha bowed her head for a moment as her bottom lip wobbled hard, Calum realised he’d been right.

“Yes,” she whispered and Calum wished he didn’t have to be the one to tell her this. “Cal, what is it?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Calum breathed and Aleisha’s blue eyes filled with tears. “But… maybe two months ago now…” Calum felt fucking terrible when he saw her lips press hard together and he hated himself for keeping this from her for so long. “Luke told Mike who… who told _me_ that... his dad hurts him. His brothers too… and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Leish. I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

Aleisha got to her feet jerkily, expression curiously blank although there were tears trickling down her pale cheeks. She snatched the tin off the desk and tried to roll another cigarette but her fingers were shaking too badly, and she couldn’t do it.

She let out a frustrated sob when the tobacco fell out of the paper and Calum’s heart was in his throat when he tugged on her hand lightly to make her sit down again.

“I’ll roll it for you,” he whispered but she didn’t say anything; another sob tore out of her instead and she drove her fist into the carpet. Calum hated it when she cried.

“I’m sorry,” the dark-haired boy promised, and he _was_ – he just didn’t know what part of this whole mess he was apologising _for_.

“Thank you for telling me,” Aleisha said, cheeks sticky with tears as she leant forwards to let the dark-haired boy light her cigarette for her. Her voice almost stopped shaking once she took a drag but the tears were still flooding relentlessly. “I knew it,” she breathed and her eyes shone brighter, wetter. “I fucking _knew_ it.”

“I… I thought you would’ve seen… if he had scars or whatever,” Calum whispered, unsure if he was stepping over a line that shouldn’t be crossed. Aleisha’s face flushed but she gave a careful shrug. The statement seemed to focus her though and she looked a little calmer as she wiped her eyes with the hem of her t-shirt, raising it to dry her face.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said in a measured voice. “We’ve never…” Her cheeks burnt hotter and she ducked her head, refusing to meet Calum’s eye. “I haven’t… not _properly_ … y’know…”

“I know,” Calum murmured. Then he bumped his shoulder lightly against hers, forcing a weak smile onto his face. “Neither have I.” That had the desired effect at least; Aleisha let out a watery laugh but the relief flooding her expression kind of hurt to look at as she buried her face in his neck, lips brushing the sensitive skin there without meaning to.

“We’re really dramatic virgins,” she said and Calum snorted with laughter before he could stop himself. His eyes were still sad though because there was a lingering melancholy in Aleisha’s faraway eyes… like she was seeing something Calum couldn’t.

“That explains why blondie’s so…hard to reach,” she said suddenly, voice slow and thoughtful. Calum thought it actually had a lot more to do with the blond boy being in love with _Ashton_ but, no sooner had the thought crossed his mind, Aleisha looked up at Calum morosely.

“Blondie never talks about Ashton anymore,” she said and the dark-haired boy’s teeth worried his bottom lip unconsciously as his stomach twisted with nausea. “He’s… It’s like he’s _fading_ ,” she said, cheeks flaming like she was worried Calum was going to laugh at her but, honestly, Calum had never wanted to laugh at anything _less_. “Do you know what I mean?”

Calum thought of the hollowness expanding in Ashton’s sad hazel eyes as he drifted around silently in the corridors at school, looking lonely even when he was in the most crowded place.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Calum whispered and it felt like he was betraying the curly-haired boy when he said: “Ashton’s the same.”

Aleisha’s eyes were wide as she looked away, burning a hole in her carpet with the cigarette. Calum wanted to tell her to be careful she didn’t hurt herself but that felt hypocritical.

“I’m worried about them… whatever they are…” Her eyes flickered quickly to Calum’s face and away again but she didn’t push it, and Calum was very grateful for that. “Isn’t that stupid, Cal? I’m worrying about **them** when blondie’s meant to be _my_ boyfriend.”

Calum’s face paled and he wondered if maybe Aleisha knew more than she let on after all.

“I can’t help it though,” she continued, dropping the remains of her cigarette into the lid of the tin. “I just care about him so much. I want him to be happy.”

“Leish –” Calum began but his eyes were burning with tears. “I want to tell you but I can’t.”

“Then don’t,” she said flatly but there was a kindness in her eyes all the same. She cupped his cheek gently and Calum felt like she was the only thing keeping him from falling to pieces.

“You said Mike told you about blondie,” Aleisha said suddenly, eyes widening faintly at whatever she could see twisting Calum’s expression. He thought it might be pain. “How… how _are_ you two?”

Calum pushed himself up into a sitting position, leaning back against the younger girl’s bed as he pulled his knees up to his chest, holding them there. It was an undoubtedly defensive position and the sandy-haired girl looked upset.

“We’re terrible,” he breathed and Aleisha’s eyes grew sadder than ever as she sat up too, crossing her legs beneath her. “We… we did some _stuff_ a while ago…” Calum said evasively and, when Aleisha only looked confused, the dark-haired boy swallowed past the lump in his throat, elaborating: “We kissed. We _more_ than kissed… and… and we were actually sort of _okay_ after that – at least for a little while, see?”

Aleisha nodded numbly but it didn’t look like she really understood how the pair of them could _ever_ be anything even remotely resembling okay.

“And… and then I told him I didn't know what we _were_ anymore and... and when he asked me what I wanted us to be, I... I _lied_. I told him... just friends.”

“Cal…” Aleisha shook her head slowly, like she was trying to clear it. “I get that that probably hurt Mike’s feelings but… why would that make the pair of you terrible? I mean, surely if you’re both trying to at least coexist then…”

“But he’s trying to move on,” Calum whispered, selfish and pathetic and _hurting_ , and Calum had never hated himself more than he did then.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Aleisha asked, blue eyes wide and innocent. “Moving on?”

“Not when he’s leaving me behind,” Calum said but his face had gone very pale and his jaw was set. “Not when I hear people bragging at school about how he’s been with them. Not when I see the hickeys. Not… not when he… he fucking _looks_ at me before he makes some damn comment about it, like he’s trying to see if I understand… Not when he’s doing this because of _me_ , Leish!”

“ _Cal_ ,” Aleisha said brokenly but Calum couldn’t see her past the painful tears blurring his eyes. Maybe that was a good thing though because, if Calum had been able to see the sympathy in her face – the _pity_ – then there probably wouldn’t have been anything stopping him from throwing himself down the stairs.

“Please… just don’t,” Calum breathed as his trembling hands fell limply into his lap. He inhaled raggedly, fighting against the anxiety pooling like molten lava in his lungs. “I… I don’t deserve for you to be understanding right now.” The tears on his cheeks were hot but Calum barely felt them. “Mike asked me what I wanted us to be… and I could have said _something_ , Aleisha. I could have… but I didn’t… I…”

Calum broke off, shoulders hunched as he wiped his tears away furiously with the too-long sleeves of his jumper. His sobs were breathless and they sounded pathetic even to his own ears. Aleisha must think he was so fucking useless –

Her arms were soft as they wound gently around his waist and Calum slumped against her with a ragged sob, clinging to her as his shoulders shook and his breath heaved in his chest. Aleisha stroked his back comfortingly, palm dragging up and down as he struggled to get his breath back. Calum worried briefly that she could feel his spine through the layers he was wearing and he thought she might be able to when her hand fell down between them, fingers curling gently around his wrist. Calum’s dark, bloodshot eyes widened when her hand completely enveloped it.

At least he didn’t have to worry about her seeing the angry cuts he’d left there though – those were further up his arms now, nearer to the crook of his elbow. It made them easier to hide during football practice.

Her fingers were still loosely encircling Calum’s wrist.

“You’ve lost weight,” she noticed and the dark-haired boy’s heart fluttered in his chest as he refused to let himself believe the lie.

“Trying to get in shape,” Calum said breathlessly, thinking briefly of how toned all of the guys on the football team looked before he remembered his own fatness with a sinking feeling in his hollow chest. “But I’ve got a long way to go before that.”

Aleisha’s eyes widened and her expression became even more deeply concerned but she’d barely opened her mouth to speak when there was a low knock on the door downstairs. Aleisha rose slowly, fixing Calum with a long worried look before she left to answer it.

Calum stayed sitting hunched up on the floor, so drained and exhausted that he didn’t even feel his usual flurry of nervousness when he heard Ashley following Aleisha back up the stairs.

Ashley was wearing a plain purple jumper over old grey jeans, and her face looked washed out in the fading light. When Aleisha flicked the light switch on and bathed the room in a soft glow, Ashley winced, eyes fluttering shut of their own accord like maybe she was hungover.

“Hey, gorgeous,” she said to the younger boy but her voice was hoarse. Clubbing the night before, probably. “How’re you?” Her dark eyes were just hard enough that Calum had a feeling Aleisha might have given their friend a heads-up on their way upstairs but he was too tired to get upset about that now.

“Been better,” he said simply and Aleisha hesitated before she came to sit down beside him again. Ashley dropped down onto the beanbag, carding her fingers through what was left of her dark hair before a long sigh escaped her.

“Sorry I’m so late,” she said when the silence proved to be too much for her. “I went shopping with mum after school. We had to find outfits for my cousin’s wedding.”

Aleisha perked up at that, at a topic of conversation that might not result in tears.

“Did you find anything you liked?” she asked and Ashley shrugged, exhausted face growing morose as she looked away, chin resting on her knees.

“I thought so but… I fucked up when I went to try it on,” she breathed. Calum felt a frown creasing his forehead and he exchanged a confused glance with Aleisha.

“What happened?” he asked, voice rough from crying. Ashley shrugged again. Her eyes looked wet and the eyeliner around them was just smudged enough that Calum thought maybe it was from the night before.

“Mum came with me to help,” the older girl said softly. “And I stupidly forgot about _these_ –” Ashley tugged the neck of her jumper aside so roughly that Calum heard something tear but his frown deepened when he saw the various love-bites scattered across the pale skin of her collarbone. They were different colours, obviously from more than one occasion. The purplish one just above her breast was so new that Calum could almost see the _teeth marks_. Ashley laughed once, like she was trying not to sob. “– and mum asked me if I had some secret boyfriend or girlfriend, and when I told her that actually I just went out and met people at clubs, I honestly thought she was going to disown me. I swear, I think she would’ve preferred if I kept a relationship secret instead of – how did she put it? – _whoring_ myself out. Honestly, my mum has such a way with words.”

“Ash,” Aleisha breathed but Calum was staring at the older girl in confusion, dark eyes fixed over where the love-bites were hidden under her clothes. He didn’t feel any jealousy at all which was a small comfort to him – mostly it was just concern and a little bit of pain thrown in for good measure.

“I thought you said you didn’t like sex,” Calum whispered and Ashley jerked her head up to look at him, eyes burning like he’d betrayed her. Aleisha’s frown deepened.

“What? But you sleep with people all the time, Ash,” the younger girl blurted before her expression became mortified, like she hadn’t meant for it to sound so bad. Calum flinched but Ashley reeled back like Aleisha had slapped her.

“Wow, thanks,” the older girl gasped out and it was clear that she was trying to joke but her eyes were welling up with angry tears. “It’s great to know you’re both judging me for sleeping around too. Thanks a fucking lot.”

“Ashley, we’re not!” Aleisha promised but her wide eyes were growing wet too and Calum hated that they were both seconds away from crying. “We wouldn’t ever judge you. We _love_ you, babe. We just worry about you.”

Ashley dropped her head, shoulders shaking as she tried to keep her tears from falling with the heels of her hands.

“Well, you don’t have to worry,” she said softly. “Because all of this… this _fucking_ hasn’t fixed me… I still _h-hate_ it…” Her voice cracked and Calum almost choked on the lump rising in his throat as his tears lodged themselves there.

“Why… why do you hate it?” Aleisha breathed, looking more confused than she had done all evening. There was anxiety gnawing in Calum’s chest though and he couldn’t help but feel that maybe she shouldn’t have asked that question. When Ashley’s fingers tangled too-hard in what was left of her once-brightly-coloured hair, Aleisha looked like she was regretting speaking.

“Because I got raped.” Ashley’s skin looked _grey_ now. Aleisha covered her mouth with her hands but her eyes were overflowing with tears. Calum’s heart felt like a stone in his chest.

“Don’t you remember those six months last year when you barely spoke to me?” Ashley asked Aleisha and the younger girl choked on a sob, nodding wordlessly. Ashley shrugged, movements so brittle that she looked like she was about to shatter.

“I tried to take an overdose. It didn’t work… which was lucky I guess. Mum and dad never realised why.” Ashley’s eyes looked too bright now but she was shaking. “It was then. And I never told you. I don’t know why.”

Calum felt like he was going to be sick now but the words clawed their way out of him before he could think better of it: “Then… then why would you sleep with… with so many people after… after _that_ happened?”

Ashley crumpled like someone had let all of the air out of her.

“Because I don’t want to feel broken anymore,” she whispered, eyes sliding shut to keep her tears in. “Because I want to feel _loved_ , even if it _is_ only for one night. Because I want to feel like I’m _worth_ something.”

That was the most warped logic Calum had probably ever heard and it was painful to learn that the older girl had been hurting this much and neither of them had ever even guessed. Hell, they’d never even fucking _asked_ her.

“If you’re not ready then… then that’s just going to make you feel worse,” Aleisha whispered and a tear slipped down Ashley’s flushed cheek.

“I know,” she whispered miserably. “Of _course_ I know.”

The sun finally sank beneath the horizon and the world grew shadowy through Aleisha’s window. Ashley’s shudders looked like they were going to tear her apart.

“I need to go home,” she whispered but Calum had barely opened his mouth to offer to walk her when she shook her head, tear-filled eyes softening fractionally. “I’ll be fine. Just… please let me go. I need to… to not think.”

“Alright,” Calum murmured and Aleisha looked up at him sharply like she wanted to argue, eyes bright and gleaming with tears. Calum kept his gaze fixed on Ashley; she looked sad and bone-tired and in sore need of sleep, and he knew he was making the right decision in letting her go.

“Be careful, babe,” Aleisha whispered but her eyes were even wetter when she leant forwards to press a gentle kiss to Ashley’s cheek. “We love you.”

“Love you guys too,” Ashley murmured as a faint smile twitched her lips when Calum reached out to squeeze her hand gently. Ashley seemed to appreciate it. “See you around.”

She left then, before either of them could argue with her, and the sound of the front door shutting behind her seemed oddly final. Calum swallowed past his tears with difficulty but Aleisha had to wipe hers from her overheated cheeks with trembling fingers.

“I never knew,” she whispered and she was biting her bottom lip hard to keep her sobs in. Her heart-shaped face was unusually flushed. “She never even _told_ me.”

“Maybe she just didn’t know how,” Calum whispered.

Aleisha’s soft blue eyes were sparkling with tears and her long sandy hair was falling into her face, sticking to her cheeks and forehead, and Calum’s hands were shaking when he reached to stroke it back gently.

Aleisha’s cheek was hot in his palm as she leant into the contact and Calum felt that pang in his chest again… that realisation that he would have loved her _properly_ if there wasn’t something twisted inside him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said heavily but his voice was little more than a breath, ghosting across the younger girl’s face. ‘ _But you’re not Michael_.’ Calum thought of Black Swan briefly as Aleisha’s tears began to fall again. “You’re _perfect_ ,” the dark-haired boy whispered, because it was the highest compliment he could give her.

It just made Aleisha cry harder though and, abruptly, her little bedroom felt stifling.

Calum rose clumsily, fingers carding through her sandy hair when she looked up at him from the floor. Calum didn’t want to leave her alone like this but he was shaking with… with _something_ that wanted to tear him apart and… and the longer he’d been sitting down, the more and more fat he’d started to feel, and it was crushing the air from his lungs now.

Aleisha must have seen the poorly-disguised panic in his eyes because there was something wounded in her expression when she rose, sobs still tearing out of her painfully.

“I’ll be fine,” she gasped raggedly, eyelashes spiky with tears, fingers brushing Calum’s cheekbone for just a moment. “Go… but don’t be a stranger, Cal.”

Calum left before she could see him break down, slamming his shoulder into the doorframe in his haste to get out of the house. The sky overhead was mostly dark but there were faint veins of reddish-purple smeared here and there – the colour of bruises almost... or _love-bites_  – and Calum’s sobs sounded strangled in the suffocating stillness.

He felt confused and fucking _awful_ by the time he stumbled home but his parents were out luckily, and most of the curtains in the surrounding houses were already drawn. Calum’s empty stomach was painful as it twisted itself into knots but that was nothing compared to the ache in his chest as he fell into his room, slamming his door shut behind him.

He was shaking so badly that he almost dropped the blade when he fell back against the door again and Calum’s breath tore out of him in a panicked whine. The stress of the day had finally scraped his last nerve raw and Calum’s dark eyes were frantic with it when they fell to settle on the Black Swan DVD lying discarded on the carpet nearby. He must have knocked it off the desk in his search for the razor blade but Calum honestly didn’t even remember doing it. Everything was starting to blur at the edges.

‘ _Perfect_ ,’ Calum thought when his damp eyes settled on Nina's face on the cover, because maybe _that_ was the key part the dark-haired boy was still missing. ‘ _I need to be perfect._ ’

Calum tugged his skinny jeans down clumsily, kicking them away and leaving them tangled around one ankle as he brought the blade down to his thigh, already littered with slowly-healing scratches.

Calum’s hands stopped shaking when the blade pierced his skin but his breath escaped him in a low hiss as he dragged the little piece of metal along. Carving letters hurt a lot more than just leaving straight lines did and Calum’s leg – once thick with muscle but now wasted – jerked as he cut the word ‘ **PERFECT** ’ into his skin.

Calum dug his fingernails spitefully into his stomach when he let the blade fall, distracting himself from the burning pain with a duller one that made him want to be sick.

There were drops of blood welling up out of the crudely-shaped letters and they smeared on the pads of Calum’s fingers when he tried to wipe the word away, immediately regretting it… regretting _everything_.

Calum picked the blade up once more but his hands were starting to shake again and his chest felt tight with panic as his thigh stung. Calum stared down at the word until the tears in his eyes blurred his vision and all he could see was blood, and it made the dark-haired boy feel so sick that he couldn’t bear to look at it anymore.

Calum tried to hide the word under more cuts, under _hundreds_ of lines that became increasingly wobbly as his blood dried in a sticky mess on his leg. Calum wanted to slam his head back against his bedroom door until he couldn’t wake up again and the tissues he’d clamped down over the cuts were doing nothing at all because they were sticking to his skin, and the blood was spreading like roses and... and _fuck_ , Calum was so dizzy now… and all he could see was red.

Red, _red_ , _**red**_.

Calum wondered if it was ever going to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was horrible and I'm literally so so so sorry.  
> I think I must be really fucked up though because I've had this idea in my head for a while which is definitely not good. And I took it out on Cal because I'm awful!  
> Wow...  
> Idek, thank you for reading. I'm really sorry honestly.


	60. Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum remembered the last time he’d been down on the beach briefly; remembered the sea spray and the crunching stones and the way Mali’s long hair had fluttered in the breeze as the sun made the dyed blonde strands shine like burnished gold._  
>  _“You look sad,” Luke noticed and Calum smiled humourlessly._  
>  _“So do you,” he said._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite it taking me about six hours to write, I actually really enjoyed this chapter. I like the lyrics and I never wrote much Cake for this universe so it felt pretty cathartic.  
> It felt like writing Maelstrom again.  
> I really hope you guys will like this one <3

**_The world is just a teller and we are wearing black masks._ **

**_"You broke our spirit" says the note we pass._ **

_\- The Phoenix, Fall Out Boy_

 

The next few days passed in a blur of pain and exhaustion. Calum felt more than half gone; _lost_ almost as he stumbled through school with weariness in his bones and wasted love souring in his empty chest.

The day had been terrible. Calum still couldn’t get the hang of a certain type of equation that would almost _definitely_ come up in his maths exam and some girl from their year had come over to them at lunch-time, flirting shamelessly with Michael who had been chatting right back to her until Calum stormed off under the guise of doing some homework which was about the most mature way he could think of to deal with it.

They had football practice after lunch and Calum yelled himself hoarse trying to give the team the motivation they needed but it didn’t seem to help. They just looked warily at him instead and Calum couldn’t really blame them because he’d barely shown any interest in football at all for _weeks_ now… just like Ashton wasn’t today.

The football had gone soaring straight into the curly-haired boy’s shoulder with a painful smacking sound but, even when everyone else on the pitch winced, Ashton barely seemed to notice until Calum blew the whistle and ended the session.

He didn’t bother to get changed afterwards; Calum just made sure Ashton was okay, grabbed his stuff, and ran outside.

His backpack was banging painfully into his bony hip but Calum could feel the fat there when his fingers bit into it through his sweatpants and his head was spinning with dizziness as his feet carried him onwards.

Calum didn’t know where he was going at first; only that he was heading away from school… away from home...

He almost _cried_ when he realised he was heading towards that tree-lined road near the pier… the road he’d kissed Michael on in the dark where they’d touched each other in the rain and fallen apart together.

It didn’t look the same in the daylight and Calum was grateful for that. The leaves rustled softly overhead in a light breeze and the sunlight was hazy as it reflected on the surface of the ocean, visible through the gaps in the silvery bark of the trees. Calum heard a bird fluttering overhead through the branches; thought of drop bears briefly before his eyes burnt with tears and he looked away, down towards the pebbly beach.

Calum didn’t really remember walking there until he felt the stones under his football boots. He heard a solitary car pass by on the road behind him, back through the trees, but the quiet purr of its engine was almost lost beneath the sound of the waves calmly lapping at the beach. The pebbles made a soft clacking sound when Calum dropped his bag onto the ground.

He kicked his shoes and socks off before he’d had time to think better of it, dark eyes fixed on the cool water. Calum flinched when he rolled his trousers up to his knees because it hurt the cuts on his thighs but the frown on his face didn’t fade until the cool water was lapping around his tanned calves.

The sun was still burning high in the clear blue sky but Calum shivered. He didn’t know why he was here – he didn’t know what he was _doing_ except… the last times he’d been here – first with Mali and then with Michael – he’d felt _alive_ and… and Calum only ever felt numb now.

Maybe chasing these memories was the closest he would get to the feeling of **life** thrumming through him again.

Maybe Calum was destined to forever chase ghosts.

The dark-haired boy wasn’t sure how long he stood there for, just watching as the waves rolled in and out. His breathing was calm in his chest despite the brisk walk there and Calum’s hands were cold where he’d curled them into fists inside the sleeves of his sweatshirt. The sun was warm on the back of his neck.

“Calum? Is that you?” a vaguely familiar voice asked suddenly and Calum jerked in shock, cringing when a small wave rolled over and dampened the bottom of one of his trouser legs. Frowning, Calum turned towards the source of the voice and felt his chocolate brown eyes widening.

“Luke?” he blurted out. “What’re you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” the younger boy said, blond hair falling from its quiff in the gentle breeze. Luke was dressed in his Kings uniform but his blazer was knotted around his waist and his shirt sleeves were rolled back to reveal unmarked white skin underneath. Calum wished he could still do that but he didn’t even remember what it was _like_ anymore.

Luke’s eyes were fixed on Calum’s face, drinking in what must have been a lot of changes if the vague alarm colouring his expression was anything to go by. Calum looked away, teeth sinking into his full bottom lip as he curled his toes in the sand below the surface. He didn’t need to see Luke’s dismay at how fat he’d inevitably become. Calum felt bad enough as it was.

He kind of felt guilty for even _seeing_ Luke too which was probably stupid but… it just felt like betraying Ashton almost… or Aleisha.

Calum’s brow creased as he frowned down into the water, watching the ripples break around him as a piece of seaweed floated along, brushing against his ankle. Calum shuddered, pulling his foot away jerkily and almost falling. Luke’s hand shot out to steady him.

“Thanks,” Calum said breathlessly but he was so tired and his head was still spinning even now. He needed to sit down soon but… the stones were only going to hurt him. He couldn’t even sit on his _bed_ without pain anymore. “Uh… Luke, you just wrecked your shoes.”

The blond boy looked down, exhaling slowly like Calum had pricked him with a pin and all of the air was leaking out of him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Luke said hesitantly but his hand was still resting on Calum’s shoulder and the older boy couldn’t work out if it was comforting or not. “I don’t want you to fall.”

“And I look like I’m going to get blown over in a strong wind?” Calum asked incredulously, resisting the urge to pinch at the fat of his stomach. Luke inhaled shakily, pressing his lips together hard but refusing to say anything.

He looked like Ashton when he did that; stubborn and hurting and anxious.

God, Ashton hadn’t mentioned Luke in so _long_ now. It felt strange to see the blond boy again after… what? Three months maybe?

Calum was losing track of time these days and it didn’t really matter to him anymore. He just knew that Mali had left and then everything had started to unravel without her there to keep things tied neatly together… because Mali was gone and she was the glue that held everything in place.

A sad little sigh escaped Calum as he thought of that and he blinked hard to make sure his eyes stayed dry. He couldn’t help it though; he just missed her so _much_ , even when he tried to convince himself that he didn’t.

“Where were you hiding?” Calum asked Luke quietly when the blond boy seemed content to stand there in silence. He was back on the pebbles now and Calum’s shoulder felt cold without him there. “I didn’t see you when I came down here.”

“Oh,” Luke mumbled, glassy eyes focusing slowly on Calum’s face. He looked like he’d been deep in thought but Calum didn’t think he was allowed to ask what about. They weren’t close enough for that. “I was just sitting on the pier over there. It helps me think.”

Luke gave a careless little shrug but Calum could tell he was a lot more uncomfortable than he was letting on… like maybe being this near Calum made him anxious (or maybe it just reminded him of Ashton).

Calum looked towards the old pier and the frown on his face deepened. It still looked just as rickety and dangerous as he remembered.

“I like it up there,” Luke said defensively, like maybe he could tell what the older boy was thinking. “It’s peaceful.”

“It doesn’t look very safe though,” the dark-haired boy said doubtfully. Luke shrugged again, eyes fond and faraway for just a moment.

“I like it. Me and Ash used to –” Luke faltered, choking on his words as he looked away, piercing ocean-blue eyes wet with tears.

Calum remembered the last time he’d been down on the beach briefly; remembered the sea spray and the crunching stones and the way Mali’s long hair had fluttered in the breeze as the sun made the dyed blonde strands shine like burnished gold.

“You look sad,” Luke noticed and Calum smiled humourlessly.

“So do you,” he said but putting the spotlight on Luke didn’t make him feel any better. He just felt cold and sad, lonely and angry… and too dispirited to do anything to remedy it.

“You’re shivering,” Luke said softly. “Come out of the sea.”

Calum felt even fainter when he turned to look at Luke and there was a softness in the blond boy’s eyes… a rawness that hinted at an agony the likes of which Calum couldn’t even imagine. Calum felt sick at the thought of it but Luke was still watching him expectantly and that was why the dark-haired boy took a faltering step forwards, trying to keep the pain off his face when the cuts on his thighs ached.

“I didn’t bring a towel,” Calum said stupidly and the blond boy’s smile was weak at best.

“Just sit down in the sun, Cal,” he said softly, voice tired and heavy. There were deep bags under Luke’s eyes, like maybe he wasn’t sleeping well. Calum’s eyes widened fractionally at the nickname. “I’m sure you’ll dry off in no time.”

“Okay,” Calum mumbled but he did what Luke said; couldn’t find it in himself to argue quite honestly. Calum only ever wanted to feel like someone was looking out for him. There was no reason not to listen.

Luke tugged his blazer off from around his waist and lay it down on the pebbles without prompting, and Calum’s gratitude must have blazed on his face because Luke’s cheeks flushed pink for just a moment. It faded quickly though and Luke was just left looking tired again… like a ghost almost… left behind.

Calum remembered briefly what Aleisha had said that night in the pub: that Luke looked like he was _fading_ and… and Calum could see it now. He could see the sparkle in Luke’s eyes dwindling and threatening to flicker out in a puff of smoke, like a candle in a strong wind.

The light in his eyes had almost gone out.

Calum wanted to know what Luke was like when he was _happy_. He remembered that night with Aleisha in the pub, remembered wanting to get to know the blond boy better because he at least deserved that much probably. Calum figured he’d been right too because, honestly, Luke didn’t even seem that _bad_.

Maybe they just didn't understand each other.

Luke had always tried harder than Calum had too. Even that day when the dark-haired boy had got upset at Ashton’s house – the day where he’d ended up crying in Michael’s arms – Luke had still squeezed Calum’s shoulder gently in an attempt to comfort him.

All Calum had ever done was push Luke away and keep secrets from him… and that wasn’t a very good way to repay a friend. (Maybe that was what Luke was too. Calum’s _friend_.)

“Luke?” Calum asked softly and the taller boy made a small noise to show that he was listening. Calum shuddered, wrapping his arms tightly around himself in a vain attempt to warm up. After a moment of hesitation, Luke’s arm slipped around Calum’s shoulders. “What happened with you and Ashton?”

Calum knew he’d said the wrong thing straight away because Luke tensed, his breath punched out of him in a pained gasp that Calum immediately felt terrible for having caused. Luke didn’t pull away though and Calum appreciated that. Maybe Luke was more mature than all of them put together.

“I don’t know,” the blond boy answered after a long pause, voice little more than a whisper. “Why? What do _you_ know?”

Calum shrugged half-heartedly, leaning into the taller boy’s warmth as a seagull whirled in the sky overhead. Luke smelt like lemons, sea-spray, petrichor… All clean, fresh smells. He counteracted the comforting scent of laundry detergent and soap that Ashton exuded perfectly; safe and dangerous, familiar and new.

Calum realised after a long pause that Luke was still waiting for him to answer and the dark-haired boy’s cheeks heated with blood as he struggled to gather his thoughts.

“Uh… well I know that Ash called Mike about you…” Calum swallowed the rest of his words, choked back the ‘ _and lied when he said he didn’t love you_ ’ because there was probably a reason for that. “Mike just… just hinted that maybe things weren’t… quite what we’d thought they were between you both…” Calum’s voice trailed away uncomfortably and he forced a casual shrug.

“You don’t look impressed with my terrible explanation,” Calum noticed and Luke’s expression twitched, like he didn’t know whether to scowl or smile. “Why don’t _you_ tell me what happened?”

Luke ran his free hand through his soft blond hair, leaving it lying limply across his forehead as his eyes gleamed wet. It made him look younger almost, and Calum felt sick when he remembered what Michael had told him about Luke’s father and brothers… about how they hurt the blond boy sitting beside him.

“Alright,” Luke whispered but his voice was shaking faintly. “Well… I went round Ash's... and we were... y'know... _together_ I guess..." The blond boy’s voice trailed away in embarrassment but Calum didn’t look at him. He kept his gaze fixed on the ocean, struggled not to think about Aleisha’s crying face as the waves rippled closer, breaking apart on the pebbles. Luke calmed against him.

“And... and then - right out of the blue - he just _finishes_ things, y'know?” Luke continued and Calum’s eyes widened faintly because he’d had no clue that was what had happened. “And I had no idea why but... but Mike called me... and it had to have been almost two in the morning, I swear. I thought it was gonna wake my family up."

Luke faltered, jaw squaring for a moment as he bit down on his wobbling bottom lip. Calum's hand was shaking when he slipped his arm around Luke's waist, trying to help him too, and the blond boy pressed closer, like he appreciated it more than he could put into words.

It took Luke a little while to speak again, like the lump inevitably rising in his throat was too difficult to swallow around. "And... and then he tells me that Ash is crying on the phone to him, all messed up because he tried to do the right thing and made things worse..." Luke’s voice was heavy and it trailed away slowly as he shook his head. There was a glimmer of fondness in his eyes as he caught Calum's gaze though and the dark-haired boy's heart ached in his chest.

"So I called Ash... said he was an idiot," Luke said, huffing out a breathless laugh that sounded painful. Calum’s lips twitched but there was a lump rising in his throat. "And... and I told him I'd try to fix things... I... I said I knew he had reservations about us working out and that that was fine because... because we could just be friends, y'know?"

The parallels cut Calum to the core and, abruptly, all he could see was the abject agony saturating Michael's face when Calum had recklessly torn the floor out from beneath their feet.

Luke's trembling fingers rubbing a soothing pattern into Calum's narrow shoulder brought the older boy back.

"Cal?" the blond boy breathed and Calum sniffed hard, managing a faint watery smile that almost certainly didn't touch his eyes.

"I'm fine," Calum said unconvincingly. "Go on. Then what happened?"

"I..." Luke shook himself, still looking distracted although some of the concern bled away as he lost himself in the memories again. "I... Yeah, I said we could just be friends... I told him if that was what he wanted then I'd take it - I'd take _anything_ because I couldn't lose him... because he's the best thing that's ever happened to me... because I _love_ him."

Calum didn't realise Luke was crying until he felt the younger boy shaking but, when he looked up, there were tears rolling silently down the blond boy's cheeks. Calum felt horrible for bringing what was clearly such a painful subject up in conversation.

"I told him it was up to him where we went from there," Luke breathed but his eyes were squeezed tightly shut now, lavender lids swollen from where he'd rubbed at them fiercely with the back of his hand. There were still tears trickling down his flushed cheeks. "I told him to call me, Cal... when he'd decided..."

Luke was shuddering against him now and Calum held him even closer but it didn't seem to do much. Luke was still falling apart in his arms.

"And then what happened?" the dark-haired boy prompted and Luke's breath tore out of him in a wrecked sob.

“Then he never _spoke_ to me again,” Luke gasped out but his breath caught painfully in his throat and Calum’s eyes were wide as he wrapped both arms more securely around Luke. The blond boy was crying into his neck now and Calum couldn’t quite get his head around how he’d managed to end up here… comforting a crying Luke on the beach when he was supposed to be on Ashton’s side… or _Aleisha’s_.

“I’m sorry for making you cry,” Calum whispered but his heart hurt in his chest as Luke struggled to put the pieces of himself back together again and it kind of hurt to watch. The blond boy’s sobs quietened and his breathing became calmer, and it was horrible to see the mask sliding back into place like that because… maybe that was the way Luke looked when his father was hurting him.

Maybe that was Luke trying to be brave.

The tears were still falling though and Calum tried to catch them with the sleeve of his sweatshirt but it didn’t help. They looked like they were never going to stop.

Calum wanted to be angry with Ashton for upsetting the blond boy so much but he couldn’t when he knew the older boy must have thought he was doing the right thing. Calum’s breath escaped him in a soft sigh.

Ashton should have been here to kiss Luke’s tears away. It wasn’t right.

“This isn’t your fault,” the blond boy breathed but his arm slid from around Calum’s shoulders all the same and the dark-haired boy withdrew too, tangling his shaking hands in his lap. Luke picked up a pebble, bringing his arm back and throwing it as hard as he could into the ocean.

“None of this is your fault either,” Calum pointed out breathlessly and, although Aleisha’s face flickered briefly in Calum’s mind’s eye, this was the first time he’d believed those words. “You never wanted to hurt anyone… and I don’t think Ash did either.” Calum hung his head, frowning down at the scrape on his knuckle that his teeth made when he was purging. “I think you both just… weren’t on the same page.”

Luke shrugged jerkily but he didn’t speak. The tears falling from his reddened eyes were beginning to slow though and Calum decided to count that as a win.

“What are you doing later?” the dark-haired boy asked curiously, purely because he wanted to distract Luke now. The blond boy shrugged gloomily, eyes fixed on the spot where the pebble had cut through the waves. The ripples had long-since stopped now.

“Homework,” Luke said. “Might talk to Aleisha if she calls… but I hope she doesn’t.” Calum bristled but, before he could get annoyed, Luke carried on speaking, his voice heavier and sadder now. “I always feel so bad when she calls. She’s… she’s really lovely under… under all of the bluster… when she wants to be at least.”

Calum’s lips twitched without his permission but his eyes grew sad as he remembered that night at Ashley's party when Aleisha had done her very best to keep Calum safe, even when he was being awful to her.

"She _sounds_ lovely," Calum said, and he meant it.

Luke gave the dark-haired boy a long look before a tiny smile curved his lips.

"She is,” the blond boy said softly. “She can be.”

Calum thought of how lonely Aleisha was... of how much her tears stung him like acid whenever they trickled down her cheeks.

"Are you _sure_ things couldn't last between you two?" Calum asked without meaning to and he instantly felt almost _ashamed_ … like he was betraying Ashton by asking… except the sticky feelings of guilt applied to Aleisha too, because did Calum _really_ want her in a relationship with someone who cheated on her?

“I’m gay, Cal,” Luke whispered and the light in his eyes was almost gone now. His shoulders slumped like everything was getting too heavy to hold up and Calum knew _exactly_ how he felt. “It doesn’t matter how much I want us to work out. It _can’t_.”

“I’m sorry,” Calum whispered but he didn’t know what he was apologising for anymore. “I just wish things were easier… for _all_ of us.”

“Me too,” Luke breathed and his eyes looked wet again but there was a tiny smile touching his lips. “I miss playing music with you guys. You’re so good at the bass, Cal… and your _voice_!”

“You can talk,” Calum said but there was a tiny smile tugging at his full lips now and Luke looked pleased with himself. Calum’s legs were almost dry in the sunlight.

“I don’t really upload covers anymore,” the blond boy said suddenly and Calum looked down at where the water was slowly creeping towards them as the tide started to come in.

“You should,” Calum said. “You’re really good, Luke.”

The blond boy smiled but it didn’t really touch his eyes anymore.

“Thanks,” Luke said heavily but his hair was falling across his forehead and he sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand like a little kid. Calum’s heart softened. “That’s what people say. They said it about my dancing too… but it doesn’t make a difference, does it?”

“What do you mean?” Calum frowned and Luke shrugged, his shoulder jerking up and down sharply like someone had ran an electric current through him. Luke’s muscles rippled under his shirt and Calum felt weak by comparison.

“It doesn’t matter how good I am at something if no one’s ever going to get the chance to see it,” Luke said in a weak voice but Calum disagreed with that.

“I don’t think that’s true,” the dark-haired boy said, argumentative tone colouring his voice. “I think – so long as you’re doing something you love – it shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks, right?” God, Calum felt like a hypocrite right now. “That’s why Mali sang… and taught dance. Because it was something she loved. Mum wanted her to do _science_ , Luke.”

“Mali?” The blond boy was frowning faintly – like he was trying to work out where he knew the name from almost – and Calum bit his lip, unable to remember if he’d mentioned her before or not.

“She’s my sister,” Calum said. His hand fell to rest on Luke’s blazer stretched out beneath him and he twisted the black material lightly between his fingers as he looked at the Kings logo. “She used to teach dance at your school after she left.”

“Mali-Koa!” Luke blurted out and Calum smiled despite himself, dimples creasing his cheeks faintly. “That’s your _sister_? She’s amazing, Cal! She taught me to dance!”

Calum smiled wider but it almost _hurt_ because he hadn’t felt that much pride fluttering inside him for a long, _long_ time.

“Where… where’d she go?” Luke breathed suddenly and Calum’s smile faded as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth again.

“She ran away.” The dark-haired boy sighed softly but Luke’s hand had slipped to cover his where it was still fisted in the blazer and Calum just appreciated it a lot. “She didn’t want to be at home anymore… not with mum and… and _dad_ being so –”

Calum faltered, immediately feeling terrible because his father might be awful but Luke’s sounded a _thousand_ times worse… except David hurt _Joy_ and… and Calum kind of wished his father was more like Luke’s.

At least then his mother would be safe. At least then Calum would be getting what he probably _deserved_.

Luke touched Calum’s shoulder gently at the mention of parents, the look in his eyes just a little bit _too_ understanding when he took in the haunted expression on Calum’s gaunt face.

There was something in Luke’s eyes that made Calum realise he should never have judged him all those months ago… because maybe he’d never really known him at all.

A soft sob tore out of Calum and his shoulders hunched inwards as he tried to hide his face in his hands. Luke’s arms were warm when he pulled the smaller boy into a gentle hug.

“It’s all gonna be okay, Cal,” Luke whispered and, if even _he_ could still believe that after everything he’d been put through, Calum shouldn’t question it. “I promise it is.”

Luke’s small trembling hands were rubbing comforting circles into the dark-haired boy’s back and it was _almost_ enough to keep Calum from falling apart.

Almost.

For just a moment, Calum could see why Aleisha stayed with Luke, despite knowing he was lying to her.

For just a moment… Calum could see why Ashton loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought by leaving comments and kudos <3


	61. Fragile Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum stroked Michael’s hip, still scattering kisses across his shoulders because the younger boy didn’t know how else to comfort Michael and he’d never been very good with getting his words out._  
>  _Maybe Calum could just distract Michael from how much he was hurting instead._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's been on my mind for a while and it kind of needed to happen - this needed to change between them - for the rest of the fic to work out... so I hope you guys will like it!  
> Also... smut. Lots of (weirdly angsty) smut.

**_We've both got a million bad habits to kick; not sleeping is one._ **

**_We're biting our nails, you're biting my lip, I'm biting my tongue._ **

_\- A World Alone, Lorde_

 

Ever since Calum had spoken to Luke that day on the beach, he’d felt a little less… lost. It was strange but it felt almost like sharing a moment with someone who barely knew him had helped Calum put things into perspective.

Maybe that was why Calum went up to Michael at school on Friday morning instead of avoiding him.

“Calum,” Michael blurted out in shock when he closed his locker door and saw the dark-haired boy lingering nearby. “I don’t think Ash is in today…”

Calum’s purposefully calm expression flickered with something like pain but he forced it down, managing a slight grimace before he shook his head morosely, like he couldn’t believe how far they’d fallen.

“I figured as much. I wanted to see _you_ ,” Calum said quietly, halting and slow. He shrugged, shoulder jerking up like he was a puppet with knotted strings. “We haven’t really spoken. Not since…”

Michael’s pale face twisted but he didn’t walk away and Calum appreciated it a lot.

“Well, we’ve both been busy. We’ve got exams…” Michael’s voice trailed away but the dark-haired boy’s lips twitched weakly.

“ _You’ve_ been revising, Mikey?” Calum teased and Michael rolled his eyes, bumping Calum lightly with his shoulder as the school bell rang. The red-haired boy’s tired bubble of laughter sounded awkward and strained. “It’s just… we haven’t been very good at the whole ‘ _let’s just be friends_ ’ thing… and I’m _really_ sorry about that.”

Michael flinched, teeth sinking into his bottom lip hard. “It’s just… quite difficult,” the older boy said heavily and Calum’s chocolate brown eyes became faintly alarmed as he stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” the younger boy said instantly, cheeks flaming. “I mean… if you’d rather we didn’t hang around then that’s fine, I swear. Just –”

“ _Cal_ ,” Michael interrupted but his voice was soft, his green eyes dull and weary. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping properly, and his hands were cracked and sore in the moments before he curled them into fists inside the too-long sleeves of his jumper. “Of course I don’t want that. I _miss_ you.”

“I miss you too,” Calum said, trying _so_ hard to keep this from getting awkward. “I like your tattoo by the way. It’s really cool.”

Michael’s expression flickered guiltily but his full lips twitched into a weak smile. His eyes looked wet and Calum felt his concern grow at the older boy’s obvious unease.

“Thank you,” Michael said. “I don’t know why people moan about it hurting so much. I didn’t think it was that bad at all.”

“Well maybe they’re just not as punk rock as you are then,” Calum suggested but Michael looked a little happier now and Calum relaxed as the school bell rang, signalling the start of first lesson. “C’mon, Mikey,” the dark-haired boy said and Michael’s smile spread more easily across his face now. “We’ve got geography.”

Their fragile truce lasted all day.

Calum sat with Michael at lunch-time but he kept his headphones in as he worked on an essay and the older boy didn’t seem to mind. He looked too tired to _care_ to be honest but there was something in his expression that kept anyone from coming over to them and Calum was grateful for that.

Michael still looked edgy and stressed though and, just before their fifth and final lesson of the day, Calum finally realised why.

They’d stopped so that the younger boy could get his science textbook out of his locker when Charlie Barker walked down the corridor with one of his friends. Calum felt awkward immediately because they were the two he’d kicked off the team all those months ago but Michael reacted unexpectedly.

The moment he saw the other boy, Michael's back hit the locker next to Calum’s with an audible clang and his cheeks _flamed_. Charlie’s expression became panicky in the moments before he hurried off down the corridor at a run and Calum exchanged a slightly wide-eyed look with Charlie’s friend before he turned just in time to see Michael’s fingertips shakily brushing a bruise sucked into his neck.

Calum’s stomach dropped and his knees felt weak under him because… no.

No, _no_ , _**no**_.

Michael didn’t. He _couldn’t_ have. Not with **Charlie**.

Calum didn’t realise he’d said that out loud until Michael’s eyes swam with tears and... and that scared Calum too because the red-haired boy would never, _ever_ cry at school – not when he had a reputation to uphold.

Calum reacted without thinking, grabbing hold of Michael’s upper arm and towing him swiftly down the hallway, uncaring that they still had another lesson left that they were stupidly missing this close to exams.

The pair of them left the building at a jog and Calum kept holding onto Michael, partly because the older boy clearly needed the comfort but also because even that short burst of energy had made Calum’s head begin to swim sickeningly. Michael was crying properly now and Calum was glad he’d made him leave. He couldn’t let Michael stay there when he was in this much of a state.

“Mike?” Calum asked softly but Michael was choking on his sobs now. Calum tightened his grip on the older boy’s arm, giving him a tiny shake. “Michael, which way is it to Graham’s house?”

The sky was bright but grey overhead and the day would have been warm if there hadn’t been a cool wind painting their cheeks red. The driveway was thankfully empty of cars when they finally arrived and Calum was vaguely wishing he could smoke a cigarette but he was almost out of them now; he’d have to pick some more up on the way home.

Michael’s hands were shaking when he dug his door key out of his pocket and he dropped it on the floor by mistake. “I don’t wanna –” He was still crying, could barely get his words out so Calum didn’t ask him what he meant. He just picked the key up himself and, fighting against the dizziness that overwhelmed him when he knelt down to get the key, Calum let them in.

“Mikey, it’s okay,” Calum murmured but the red-haired boy was still upset. His cheeks were blotchy now and the tears refused to stop falling, and Michael’s fingertips were bothering that bruise on his neck again… that bruise that Calum hadn’t been able to look away from the whole walk home.

Calum wished he didn’t feel jealous. He was sure he had no right at all, especially when he was the one who’d pushed his best friend away in the first place. It hurt to see Michael so upset though and Calum was pretty sure he would have done anything in that moment to make things okay again.

“Shoes off,” Michael mumbled shakily and Calum took his off carefully but the red-haired boy just flopped down on the stairs, eyes glassy with tears. Calum did it for him in the end, fiddling awkwardly with the older boy’s laces. When Calum looked up, Michael’s tears were drying sticky on his cheeks and his eyes were locked on Calum’s face.

“Why…” His voice was rough from crying and he coughed, clearing his throat as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “Why’re you still being nice to me? After… after _him_?”

Michael looked like he was going to cry again and Calum threw caution to the wind, surging forwards to wrap his arms around his best friend’s neck. Michael stiffened in shock at first but the little sob that escaped him when he hugged Calum back made the dark-haired boy want to cry too.

“We all do stuff we regret,” Calum said carefully, voice muffled in Michael’s broad shoulder as he rubbed the older boy’s back comfortingly. “It’s not my place to judge you.”

Calum didn’t remember to feel fat until Michael’s hand drifted nearer his ribcage. Then the dark-haired boy pulled away, smiling like his heart _wasn’t_ breaking in his chest.

“Come upstairs,” Michael breathed and Calum had the strangest sense of foreboding but Michael was looking at him with his sad, desperate eyes and… and Calum couldn’t push him away again. Not now.

“C’mon then,” Calum murmured, following the red-haired boy upstairs as Michael led the way. He leant against the wall as he walked, like he was too tired to hold himself up anymore, and it was second nature for Calum to keep his hand resting gently on the small of Michael’s back. The red-haired boy calmed when he felt the warmth of Calum’s palm there, no longer afraid of falling.

Michael’s bedroom was dark when they entered. He hadn’t opened the curtains that morning and, although there were clothes piled on chairs and various pieces of paper spread out over the desk, it still looked clean despite being disordered. Typical Michael.

The red-haired boy slumped down onto his bed with a bone-deep sigh but Calum lingered in the semi-darkness, eyes drifting over the papers lying on the desktop. One of them was handwritten in Michael’s small, cramped writing and it looked a lot like song lyrics.

“Can I…?” Calum asked hesitantly and Michael sniffed mournfully, waving one pale trembling hand through the dark air carelessly.

“Be my guest,” Michael said heavily. A lump rose in Calum’s throat when he read the words.

 

**_Wasted days,_ **

**_Dreaming of the times I know I can't get back._ **

**_Seems I just lost track._ **

**_Looking on,_ **

**_As all of life's colours seem to fade to grey,_ **

**_I just walked away._ **

 

Calum felt worry niggling in his chest when he looked up again, taking in the set of Michael’s jaw as he covered his eyes with his forearm. His bottom lip was wobbling and Calum wanted to cry kind of… that Michael had been hurting like this.

 

**_I was already missing before the night I left._ **

**_Just me and my shadow and all of my regrets._ **

**_Who am I? Who am I when I don't know myself?_ **

**_Who am I? Who am I?_ **

**_Invisible._ **

 

Calum’s eyes were prickling with tears when he let the paper flutter back down onto the desk and Michael pushed himself up into a sitting position, shame clear on his pale face. His hair was sticking up in a messy halo around his head and he looked like he was fighting not to cry again.

“I didn’t think anyone would be reading that,” he whispered but Calum just shook his head, climbing up onto the double bed beside him and slumping down onto the mattress. He wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist unthinkingly, burying his face in the pillow as the red-haired boy looked down at him in surprise. The sheets smelt like Michael – like coconut shampoo, chocolate, coffee, laundry detergent… maybe even talcum powder, like he was just a little kid – and Calum’s voice was thick with tears when he spoke next.

“Why’d you leave home, Mikey?”

Michael slumped back down onto the bed beside Calum like all of the fight had gone out of him. He was trembling faintly, shoulders hunched up defensively, and Calum’s arms were warm when they wrapped comfortingly around his best friend’s chest from behind.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Michael whispered and Calum pressed a soft kiss to the older boy’s shoulder without thinking. Michael made a small needy sound in his throat as he twisted in Calum’s arms, so close to the younger boy that their noses bumped together.

Abruptly, Calum remembered the last time he’d been in this room with Michael; remembered the taste of alcohol and the older boy’s fingers tangling with his as their lips met but… but they shouldn’t kiss again, probably. That would only end badly.

“ _Cal_ ,” Michael whispered and there was something rough in his voice that made Calum shiver… made him feel _small_ almost, in the seconds before he tilted his head and caught Michael’s cherry-red lips in his own.

The older boy’s cheeks were still damp with tears but he let out a sigh of contentment when he kissed Calum back, like this was all he’d been hoping for. Calum’s fingers tangled in Michael’s soft red hair, tightening just enough that Michael’s lips parted around a gasp.

Calum’s tongue slipped into his mouth and stroked over Michael’s, and the red-haired boy moaned as his hips jerked against Calum’s, like he was searching for friction.

It felt so easy… kissing Michael calm… trying to make him feel whole again.

Michael melted back onto the bed beneath him when Calum settled down over him, careful not to let any of his weight settle on Michael because he didn’t want to hurt him with how heavy he inevitably was. Michael’s fingers were twisting in the sheets though and his chest was heaving when the dark-haired boy’s lips moved to trail kisses down the pale skin of his throat, and Calum wasn’t at all surprised when he felt how hard Michael was against him.

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Michael gasped out, voice tight as his eyes burnt with tears again. He pulled away, rolling onto his side so that he was lying with his back to Calum. He looked small as he hunched up there and his shoulders were shaking. When Calum reached out to touch his arm gently, Michael cringed away with a broken little whimper.

“Are you leaving now?” the red-haired boy croaked but the tears were falling again – Calum could see them rolling down Michael’s flushed cheek although the older boy was still pointedly refusing to look at him – and Calum’s heart sank in his chest as he settled down closer, arms snaking around Michael’s waist.

“I’m right here,” Calum promised but he still felt like he was going to cry and his eyes were burning worse now as he tucked his face away, pressing soft kisses to the back of Michael’s neck because he didn’t want to _think_ anymore. He just wanted to feel instead.

Michael shivered at the warm drag of Calum’s lips but he was crying again, pressing back into the warmth of Calum’s body with such a needy little whimper that the dark-haired boy couldn’t even feel self-conscious.

Calum stroked Michael’s hip, still scattering kisses across his shoulders because the younger boy didn’t know how else to comfort Michael and he’d never been very good with getting his words out.

Maybe Calum could just distract Michael from how much he was hurting instead.

His hand slid down to the older boy’s stomach and Calum stroked the warm strip of skin there idly, fingers drifting where Michael’s shirt had got rucked up. Michael tensed at first but he was pressing back against Calum, all warm and solid and needy, and Michael was sobbing a little bit now as Calum’s fingertips teasingly traced his pale skin, like this was only making him _harder_.

Calum couldn’t believe how sensitive Michael was but even the back of the older boy’s neck was flushed now and his breath kept catching whenever Calum’s fingers skirted lower and… and Calum could _kiss_ him there probably… could draw all these sounds out of Michael with his mouth and… and _shit_ , that thought made heat wash over Calum.

The dark-haired boy’s hand slipped lower, until he could feel the rougher material of Michael’s trousers against the pads of his shaking fingers. Calum wondered what the hell he was doing at first – because how was having sex with Michael now going to solve _anything_? – but then Calum remembered what Ashley had said; remembered her saying that – sometimes – being with someone made her feel less broken, more loved… like she was worth something… and _fuck_ , Michael was worth so much.

He was _so_ loved, even if Calum knew he was never going to tell him so maybe he _deserved_ this comfort now, especially if it was all his best friend could give him.

‘ _And besides_ ,’ Calum reasoned desperately. ‘ _A few minutes of pleasure is definitely better than nothing._ ’

Calum’s mouth found the smooth pale skin of Michael’s neck again and he started to suck a bruise there as his hand slid down over the bulge in the older boy’s trousers. Michael shuddered against Calum, like he was coming apart at the seams almost, and he was still crying and Calum was growing worried now because… maybe Michael didn’t want this.

“Mikey,” Calum breathed and his hand had slid back to the red-haired boy’s hip now, making Michael whine softly. “Is this okay? I need you to tell me.” Calum’s voice was surprisingly steady considering how he was starting to grow anxious and Michael looked _small_ as he tilted his head to the side so that Calum could see the need burning in his darkened eyes.

“Y-yeah,” Michael breathed but his voice cracked. “Please, Cal. _Please_.”

Calum pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the bruise he’d just sucked into the older boy’s neck and Michael groaned when Calum reached to palm him again, pressing down with the heel of his hand as he mapped out the shape of Michael’s hard cock in his trousers. Michael’s hips jerked as he cried out and the red-haired boy was _always_ larger than life; it made sense that he shone so brightly now.

“ _Cal_ ,” Michael whined and Calum’s brain switched off when the older boy rubbed back against him. It made the dark-haired boy's blood rush south, made Calum swallow reflexively as he bit his stupid moan into the thick muscle of Michael’s shoulder. Calum’s hands were shaking as he tugged the older boy’s trousers and boxers down mid-thigh, and Calum stopped thinking when he wrapped his fingers around the older boy’s cock, felt how hot and leaking he was.

Michael’s cheeks were scarlet now and he was whimpering a little bit, tears brimming in his eyes like he felt _small_ almost… like he needed Calum to take care of him.

“I’m here,” Calum whispered as he started to jerk his fist and Michael moaned as the tears leaked down his cheeks. Calum did his best to keep his movements gentle, tried to be as sweet as possible because… fuck, Michael had been with _Charlie_ and Calum couldn’t imagine the former-football player being kind to Michael if his life depended on it.

Calum’s lips were warm on the back of Michael’s neck and the red-haired boy was panting a little, breath catching as his hips shifted to fuck into Calum’s fist.

Michael’s bare skin was so pale in the darkness and Calum’s moan caught in his throat when Michael pressed back against him, making him even harder beneath his clothes.

The red-haired boy shuddered in Calum’s arms when the younger boy twisted his fist over the head and Michael whined, squirming as the dark-haired boy rutted against him and it was so good that Calum felt the heat coiling tightly in his stomach as his breath escaped him in pants.

Michael was weak with need now, limp in the sheets as he cried, cock throbbing in Calum’s fist as more pre-cum welled in the slit. Michael was leaking so much now and his moans grew strangled as the movement of Calum’s fist sped up.

Calum hooked his chin over Michael’s shoulder, took in how _thick_ Michael’s cock was and the way the head was flushed a rosy pink that Calum had never noticed before.

“So fucking pretty.” The words were out of Calum’s mouth before he could stop them but Michael whined, rocking his hips back even more desperately, like he was getting close now.

“ _Cal_ ,” Michael gasped but Calum didn’t want him to talk now; didn’t want him to acknowledge that Calum had just spoken without thinking. The younger boy sucked at Michael’s neck again as his free hand slid under the older boy’s shirt and if Michael had been a girl then Calum would have filled his hand with her tit now, fingers squeezing the warm flesh but… but there was nothing there; just Michael’s nipple and Calum pinched it hard, twisting it just enough that Michael arched his back as he sobbed, hips jerking like he loved this so much that he was falling apart.

Michael’s breath was rasping out of him now and he was grinding back against Calum so much that the dark-haired boy was leaking in his boxers, hard enough that it almost _hurt_ but every thought left Calum’s head when Michael suddenly stilled against him, whine building in his throat as he came all over his stomach and Calum’s fist, and it felt gross on the dark-haired boy’s fingers – hot and sticky as Michael sobbed, flinching away – but it was no worse than his own cum probably.

Calum’s fist fell away from Michael’s softening cock and he wiped his hand on the sheets, pressing his forehead to the older boy’s shoulder as he struggled to regain control of his breathing. Calum was so, _so_ hard now but… but he was kind of starting to freak out a bit because the evening sun was shining through a gap in the curtains now and Michael was twisting to look at Calum and… and Calum didn’t want that.

His hands fell to settle on Michael’s hips and he held him there, plastered himself to Michael’s back so that there was friction against his cock and the older boy couldn’t see how desperate Calum felt right now.

“Wanna touch you,” Michael breathed but Calum ignored him… couldn’t let him do that probably. It would be too much; too weird; too _gay_ … like this didn’t fucking _count_ as gay!

“ _Shut up_ ,” Calum snapped but there was a faint edge of hysteria to his voice now and his grip on Michael’s hips tightened as he grinded against the older boy, so hard he almost couldn’t see straight anymore but… but it didn’t matter because Michael’s skin was hot and riding the curve of his arse made Calum’s balls draw up tight to his body, and Michael was pushing back against him again, all bare sweet-smelling skin as his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

It made Calum want to know what _fucking_ Michael would feel like almost… made him want to know how it would feel if Michael fucked _him_ , sliding deep inside as his fingers wrapped around Calum’s cock, tugging him through it.

The dark-haired boy whimpered without meaning to, squeezing his eyes tightly shut at the tears that threatened but… but this was okay. This only meant as much as they wanted it to mean and… and Calum didn’t want it to mean _anything_ so this didn’t even matter... That wasn't even a _lie_.

‘ _Feel. Don’t fucking think._ ’

Michael reached back blindly and his shaking hand settled on Calum’s hip, pressing him closer to give the younger boy more friction as the dark-haired boy grinded desperately against him, the lust bubbling like molten lava in his stomach now. Calum’s breath tore out of him in a whine and Michael’s shoulder pressing against Calum’s neck felt _almost_ as good as a hand squeezing his throat.

Calum’s vision whited out when he came, body shuddering through the aftershocks as these little sounds tore out of him, like he was _crying_ almost… like he couldn’t believe this had happened again.

Calum might have felt like the most pathetic teenager _ever_ for coming in his pants like that but Michael’s cum was drying tacky and strange on his skin now, and his hands were curled into fists again as Calum slumped down onto his back, giving Michael room to lie down properly too.

It was darker now despite the sun having finally burnt through the clouds and the light was murky as it filtered weakly through the curtains. Michael’s sheets were creased and they probably needed to be changed but, for the moment, the pair of them just lay there in the silence, still breathing hard like they’d just raced each other up a flight of stairs, the way they used to back when they were little kids.

Michael let out a tiny sigh as he lay there, like he was thinking the same thing.

Calum’s expression softened but he squared his jaw, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he slowly became aware of the ache in his thigh. It felt like maybe the cuts on his leg were bleeding again but it probably didn’t matter because Michael looked about a hundred times calmer now and he wasn’t crying anymore.

“You okay?” Calum whispered, unwilling to speak any louder. Michael shrugged, nodding wearily as his cheeks reddened. There was a new bruise on his neck now but it was mostly covering the one Charlie had left so Calum figured that was a job well done.

“Good,” the dark-haired boy murmured. “You need to go and clean up.” Michael shivered like he agreed but he made no move to rise from the bed. He reached for Calum instead, soft hand pale and shaking, and Calum watched him silently for a long moment.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” Calum said at last but his fingers still laced with Michael's and the words tasted like a lie in his mouth. "It means _nothing_."

Michael's expression flickered with pain but he gave a half-hearted shrug, smiling wryly at the younger boy as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

"I know," Michael said. "I know it doesn't. I just don't want to lose you." His voice only shook at the end, revealing the pain he was fighting to suppress, and Calum squeezed his hand more tightly. Michael gazed at him, emerald green eyes sad in the darkness. He looked more lost than Calum could ever remember seeing.

“Why did you tell me not to be sorry… after that night… but you didn’t want us to be more than friends afterwards?” Michael’s voice was soft and weak, rough from crying and moaning, and Calum’s hand was trembling when he reached to brush the pads of his fingers gently against the older boy’s warm cheekbone.

Calum didn’t want to tell him but he knew he owed Michael that. The red-haired boy deserved an answer.

“Because it’s terrifying,” Calum said honestly, pleasantly surprised that his voice didn’t shake. He left his hand on Michael’s cheek, cupping it gently. “Because as soon as I leave you, I start thinking of all of the negatives and… and then I can’t stop. Because… because this is wrong but it doesn’t _feel_ wrong when I’m with you… but then I leave again and… and it does.”

Tears welled in Michael’s eyes and his palm was soft when he covered Calum’s hand with his own.

“Don’t leave me then,” Michael whispered and Calum choked on the lump rising in his throat.

“I can’t stay here _forever_ , Mikey,” he breathed out.

The older boy smiled as a tear ran down his cheek.

“But you can stay tonight,” Michael said.

Calum did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought by leaving comments/kudos :) <3


	62. Grin And Bear It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _“Are you okay, Cal?” Luke asked awkwardly. The dark-haired boy’s tears dried up and his hands fell limply to his sides, curling into weak fists as a seagull wheeled overhead, screaming into the washed-out canvas of the sky._  
>  _“You’re supposed to say yes, aren’t you?”_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. I'm just really, really down right now and writing is hard. Everything is hard. But I don't want to stop writing this fic.  
> I hope you guys will still like it.

**_I'm staring at a broken door._ **

**_There's nothing left here anymore._ **

**_My room is cold._ **

**_It's making me insane._ **

_\- Monsoon, Tokio Hotel_

 

Calum tried not to let his mind wander anymore but it always happened when he was playing football. The dark-haired boy couldn’t focus; kept getting swept up in the whirling mess of his thoughts as the sound of his teammates shouting echoed around him and the sunlight faded as everything turned to grey.

Calum’s grades were slipping and the team were failing almost every game, and Calum couldn’t even find it in himself to care anymore. The hollow in his chest that had once been filled with fire and excitement and the need to exceed expectations had been replaced with worry now; worry for Ashton who looked more empty every day, worry for Aleisha who looked like she was on the verge of breaking, worry for Ashley who looked haunted no matter how bright a smile she was forcing, worry for Luke who was hurting right now but wouldn’t let anyone help… and worry for Michael who was trying to hide how badly he was falling apart.

When the football slammed into the side of Calum’s head and sent him tumbling down onto his back in the muddy grass, it was the first time the football captain had paid any attention since the game had started and he silently cursed himself as Sam - the player who had thrown the party that day where Michael and Calum had almost kissed - extended a hand to help him up. Ashton - who was standing grey-faced in the goal - seemed too preoccupied to notice what was going on.

“You okay, cap?” the guy asked in a low voice, the worry plain on his face. Calum forced a smile, blinking back tears where his cheek was starting to sting. His head was spinning even worse than usual now and Calum figured he probably should have eaten more than a cereal bar yesterday morning if he was going to be able to play football now.

“I’m good, Sammy,” Calum said, forcing a grin because he knew the other boy hated that nickname. Sam rolled his eyes, punching Calum lightly on the shoulder as he loped away. The dark-haired boy felt the smile on his face fade when he saw the coach’s worried expression as he stood on the sidelines.

The football practice ended and there was only one more lesson after it but Calum was still passing maths so he figured missing one lesson wouldn’t kill him. He liked working out numbers, liked the equations and the formulas because in maths there was always a right answer. Everything was black or white, and Calum didn’t have to worry about the grey area where _feelings_ developed.

He could find the right answer instead. (Calum would have given everything he _had_ to know the right answer now.)

He didn’t know where to go after school. His parents would be out working and Mali had mentioned that she might call him later but that wouldn’t be for hours yet, provided she even remembered at all. Aleisha was going to a revision club tonight and Ashley was still avoiding them a little, like she was too awkward and drained to see them in case either of them brought up what she’d told them.

Calum went back to the beach without really understanding why. It was a cloudy day today, grey and overcast now that the sun was hidden, and Calum was shivering in his school jumper as he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, nails biting into his biceps. For just a moment, he felt like Nina again… felt like his arms and his nails cutting into his tanned skin were the only things keeping him together.

When a familiar voice called the dark-haired boy’s name and he turned to see Luke climbing down off the pier, Calum realised why he’d come back here after all.

“Not getting in the water today, Cal?” Luke asked and he was smiling but his bottom lip was split. Calum felt a pang in his chest and his grip around himself tightened. Luke looked grey in the damp light.

“You’re kidding, right? It’s fucking freezing, Luke,” Calum forced out, tried to smile but felt it die on his face. The younger boy looked down at him with big, sad blue eyes beneath his blond hair. It wasn’t quiffed today and it made him look younger somehow. Calum felt a lump rise in his throat.

“Are you okay, Cal?” Luke asked awkwardly. The dark-haired boy’s tears dried up and his hands fell limply to his sides, curling into weak fists as a seagull wheeled overhead, screaming into the washed-out canvas of the sky.

“You’re supposed to say yes, aren’t you?” Calum asked awkwardly. Luke’s face fell and his tone became careful as he reached out for a moment before hesitating, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch him or not. Calum didn’t step any closer.

“Not if you’re not,” Luke said at last. Calum’s shoulders slumped.

“I’m fine,” he lied unconvincingly and it felt like the beginning of the end until Luke threw caution to the wind, pulling the dark-haired boy into a weak hug. Calum flinched at first but the taller boy smelt like laundry detergent and lemons, and it was familiar and strange, and his hands stayed on Calum’s shoulders so he didn’t have to feel fat and… god, Calum just appreciated Luke a lot.

“How’s Ashton?” Luke asked quietly when Calum drew away from his warmth and the dark-haired boy’s expression must have flickered with pain because Luke was biting at his sore bottom lip now with worry gnawing on his face.

“He’s… he’s okay, I think,” Calum said softly but his voice was hoarse and his hands were trembling inside the sleeves of his football jumper. “He’s just… tired.” Calum thought hard, trying to come up with something he could tell Luke that might stop the blond boy looking like his heart was breaking in his chest. “He’s listening to a lot of music now. He made this awesome goal the other day - _amazing_ really - and everyone clapped him on the field.” Luke was smiling faintly and Calum swallowed his next words, didn’t tell Luke that Ashton’s eyes looked empty now.

“I’m… glad he’s okay then,” Luke murmured but he was rubbing uneasily at the back of his neck now and his ocean blue eyes looked curiously damp as he turned away, gazing out over the sea, brow creased like he could see something Calum couldn’t.

‘ _He’s not okay,_ ’ the dark-haired boy wanted to say suddenly. ‘ _He’s not okay at all. He misses you. He **loves** you._ ’

Luke swallowed audibly, tear-wet eyes fixed on his trainers sinking into the damp sand as he apparently tried to convince himself not to cry.

“How have things been with you anyway?” Luke asked, clearly changing the subject. His voice was thick with something that might have been fresh tears and Calum reached out to lay a trembling hand gently on the younger boy’s broad shoulder.

“Things are okay,” Calum said quietly, hoping Luke couldn’t hear the lie in his voice. “And… and if not… just have to grin and bear it, right?” Calum’s nails bit into his palms as the lies inside him dried up.

“Things aren’t okay at all, are they?” Luke asked softly and Calum pressed his full lips together hard, dark eyes welling with tears as he shook his head mutely. Luke took one of Calum’s hands gently in his own, uncurling the smaller boy’s fist and rubbing the pad of his thumb over the red crescent moons Calum had dug into his skin with his nails.

“How…” Calum’s voice trailed away and he swallowed, blinking past his tears as he tried again. “How can you have been through all of the absolute _shit_ you’ve been through and still keep fighting? Don’t you ever think things would be easier if it just… _stopped_?” Calum couldn’t keep the raw note of pain out of his voice at the end there and Luke’s soft blue eyes grew vaguely alarmed as his hand tightened around Calum’s.

The dark-haired boy hadn’t intended for it to sound like he was contemplating ending things but… but he _was_... and he was too exhausted to pretend otherwise anymore. Not to Luke. Not when it was just them, out here with the sky and the ocean and the pebbles. Not when no one else was around to hear him.

“I think that’s just the point though,” the blond boy said slowly and, although his expression was faintly earnest, he looked like he’d read between the lines of Calum’s words and Luke wasn’t going to let go of his hand for anything. Calum wanted the tide to come in and wash him away so that he didn’t have to see the poorly-suppressed pain on Luke’s face anymore. “Even when… even when dad was pretty much trying to _kill_ me… I still didn’t want to die.”

Luke’s blue eyes were burning with tears and he dried them by dragging his sleeve across his cheeks hard. His gaze remained locked on Calum’s face.

“I still didn’t want it to be over,” Luke continued in a fierce little voice that shook Calum to the core. “I wanted something _better_ , y’know? I hoped for it. I needed things to change… I never gave up. I never _wanted_ to.” Luke swallowed past his tears but his voice sounded slightly choked when he carried on, like these were words he’d never said before… maybe not even to _Ashton_.

“I think that’s why we’re different,” Luke whispered, voice strangled now. Calum squeezed his hand back reassuringly and Luke’s breath hitched out of him like he was trying not to cry. “I tried to find a silver lining in the things that were happening… and I did.” Luke smiled faintly but his lips looked bloodless with how hard he pressed them together as he fought off a sob. “I found it in Ash… and in you and Michael… In _everything_.” Luke’s voice was shaking when he spoke next but his emotions were blazing in his eyes. “Because… because it was _worth_ staying at home and getting beaten if… if it meant I could see Ashton.”

Luke made a little choking noise as his tears began to trickle down his pale cheeks.

“I’d do it all again in a heartbeat because, even after all of this, I still...” Luke’s tears were relentless now and he’d stopped trying to wipe them away, like he knew how pointless it was now. Calum’s heart was pounding unevenly in his chest. “I love him,” Luke said and he was talking about Ashton but all Calum could see was Michael.

Luke made his excuses soon after that, giving Calum his skype username and telling the older boy to call him at some point before he half-ran back up the beach, wiping his eyes fiercely as he reached the road. Calum watched him go with a lump in his throat, momentarily forgetting the guilt he _should_ be feeling for Aleisha in the face of Luke’s grief.

Calum felt awful as he was walking home.

The smoke filling his lungs from his cigarette wasn’t even _close_ to enough and the slowly-healing cuts on his wrists were starting to itch. Calum thought about his conversation with Luke, thought about what the blond boy had said and what the words _meant_.

‘ _That’s why we’re different… because I fight to **live** and you don’t even want to exist anymore._ ’

Calum knew Luke could see it but he tried hard to convince himself that maybe things weren’t as bad as they seemed because, sure, maybe Calum _did_ want to die but it was more the frightening shadow of an idea where nothing was set in stone.

Calum just wanted someone to tell him what to do… wanted someone to look after him so that he didn’t have to think anymore - he wanted _Michael_ \- because Calum was clinging to the ledge inside his head with the very tips of his fingers but it was crumbling away now and he could feel that horrible swooping sensation in his stomach as he started to fall and -

Calum needed to be sick.

Now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone still is, thank you for reading.  
> Please let me know what you thought <3


	63. Run For Cover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _Calum's heart was aching in his chest – with guilt or love; he wasn’t sure anymore – but he could already tell by the pain on her face that she knew they weren’t going to work out either… because they couldn’t. Of_ course _they couldn’t._  
>  _Things never happened the way they were supposed to._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been planned since the beginning pretty much but I didn't realise how painfully easy it would be to write. I've always loved writing Cal and Aleisha though.  
> Also I'm laughing at myself because of how stupidly proud I was that I got to use Bonnie Tyler lyrics unironically. :')  
> I hope you guys will like this!

**_Once upon a time,_ **

**_I was falling in love,_ **

**_But now I'm only falling apart._ **

**_There's nothing I can do._ **

_\- Total Eclipse Of The Heart, Bonnie Tyler_

 

There was another love-bite on Michael’s neck.

Calum could _see_ it and it was making him feel crazy, like he should just go over and grab Michael, and never let him go again. Calum wasn’t going to do that though. He couldn’t let himself.

It was eating him away inside though and Calum was just grateful he didn’t know who had left it this time. He thought if he ever had the misfortune to actually _see_ Michael with someone else, it would tear his heart right out of his chest.

Calum had never wanted someone as much as he wanted Michael before and the fact that it didn't feel scary at all _terrified_ him.

Calum went round to Aleisha’s house after school. She told him she had a new film that Ashley didn’t want to watch with her and Calum had offered to come round instead, acting like he was doing her a favour and _not_ like Aleisha was one of the only things keeping him happy.

When she opened the door, Calum felt a pang in his chest when he remembered how close he was getting to Luke… how close he was to _Aleisha_ behind both of their backs.

Calum’s expression became faintly wry as the younger girl pulled him into a hug. Apparently he really did hate making things easy for himself.

“Hey, Cal,” Aleisha said in a small voice, keeping her head tucked safely beneath his chin for a moment as he hugged her back. Her hair was freshly-washed, tumbling down around her shoulders and smelling more like apples than smoke. The sun was beginning to sink beneath the horizon, making the shadows stretch like ink across the grass behind them. “Come inside.”

“After you,” Calum said and Aleisha’s lips twitched into a weak smile. She wasn’t wearing any makeup today and she looked younger without it, her eyes wider and more innocent almost… her lips the colour of rose petals when she sank her teeth into the bottom one.

“How’ve you been?” she asked quietly as she shut the door behind him. Things had been a little awkward between them since that evening when Ashley had told them everything – when Aleisha had begun to suspect that there was something wrong with Calum’s weight – but the pair of them were still trying.

Calum wasn’t going to lose her too.

He refused to let that happen.

“I’ve been okay,” Calum said and she gave him this sad smile, like she knew he was lying… like maybe _she_ felt the same way too. “What about you?”

“I’ve been worse,” she said dryly. “Can I paint your nails before we watch the film, Cal? You haven’t let me do it in ages.” Calum rolled his eyes at her but there was something fond in his expression all the same as he followed her, eyebrows rising when she led him into the living room instead of her bedroom. He’d never been in there before.

The colour scheme was mostly varying shades of blue and there was a massive fish tank taking up most of one wall, separating the space from the dining room. The sofas were grey leather and the flat screen television was _enormous_. Calum thought his parents would kill for a place like this.

“It’s nice in here,” he said and Aleisha pulled a face.

“It’s showy,” she said disparagingly. “Apparently my parents don’t believe in modesty when it comes to interior design... However, they haven't deigned to reward me with their presence this evening so we don't have to lurk upstairs for once.”

“You’re sassy. I love it when you’re sassy,” Calum teased and his dimples creased his cheeks when she smiled so much that her blue eyes crinkled. She’d changed out of her school uniform already – she was dressed in a loose white t-shirt over a soft denim skirt – and she looked tired as she flopped down onto the sofa, reaching for him.

“Come here so I can paint your nails,” she whined. “We can watch the film after.”

“Bossy,” Calum chided and she scoffed at him but he was glad he was messing around because she looked more like _herself_ now… like maybe all she’d needed was to laugh and the sadness she was carrying would fall from her like water.

“Black nail varnish again or are we pushing the boat out?” the younger girl asked, sitting more comfortably against the pillows as she picked up her makeup bag from the coffee table. Apparently she’d been prepared for this eventuality.

“Black’s fine,” Calum said and she pulled a face at him, giggling when he stuck his tongue out at her. It was only when she started to carefully paint his thumbnail and he found himself smiling stupidly as he watched her that Calum realised being friends with Aleisha made _him_ feel more like himself too.

“What film are we watching?” Calum asked and Aleisha’s smile softened as he spread his fingers, making it easier for her.

“We Bought A Zoo,” she said slowly, concentrating. “You ever seen it?” Calum shook his head and she nodded like she’d expected as much, causing her sandy hair to fall forwards, hiding her face. Calum tucked it back behind her ear without thinking and the soft smile she gave him sent his heart pounding in his chest although he wasn’t sure why.

“What’s it about?” he asked, voice faintly breathless although he hoped she wouldn't notice, and Aleisha gave him a long considering look, like she wasn’t sure if she should tell him or not.

“Well… there’s this journalist whose wife dies so he wants this fresh start, right? So he quits his job and moves his children to this wildlife park that still has animals there being looked after but there’s barely anyone there, y’know? And then the dad meets this lady who is one of the people who takes care of the animals and, like, the whole family works to renovate the zoo so they can reopen it, and it’s really cute. It always makes me cry though.”

Calum considered that for a long moment, taking in the way Aleisha’s eyes were shining as she switched to painting the nails on his other hand. Calum looked at the black nail vanish and relaxed back into the sofa cushions. He always liked having his nails painted but he had no idea why.

“That sounds cute,” he said at last. “Y’know, it kind of rings a bell actually.” He was frowning faintly now as he looked towards the brightly coloured tropical fishes swimming around in their tank. The blue of the water reminded him of Luke’s eyes for a moment. “I think maybe my sister might have mentioned it once.”

“She did?” Aleisha’s expression was soft and melancholy but her fingers were cool as she gently repositioned Calum’s hand so that she could reach his nails better. Her brow creased faintly when she saw the soreness on Calum’s knuckle that only worsened every time he purged but he kept his expression purposefully vacant and she didn’t say anything about it, only brushed her lips faintly over it like she was trying to make it stop hurting.

Calum’s heart was in his throat now and he felt… weird. _Itchy_ sort of, like the collar of his shirt was too tight around his throat and the air in the room was too hard to breathe.

“You wanna watch the film now?” she asked hesitantly once she'd finished with his last nail and Calum nodded jerkily, keen for a distraction from his sister and the depths of Aleisha’s lovely blue eyes as she watched him.

“Yes please,” Calum said and the younger girl’s smile was gentle as she pushed herself up from the sofa, crossing the room on bare feet and sliding the DVD off the shelf before she put it into the player.

“I’m excited,” she said although her tone didn’t convey that; she just seemed calm and soft instead, like she was content. “I love this film. I really hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” Calum said honestly. “I trust you… uh, to pick a good film, y’know?” Damnit, why was he _blushing_? What was with this weird tension in the room today? Maybe it was because they were only used to being upstairs and their new surroundings were confusing him... or _maybe_ it was because Calum was trying to forget about Michael and pushing everything he was feeling onto Aleisha instead. (With a stab of regret, Calum realised that the latter seemed a lot more likely.)

“Fingers crossed then,” Aleisha said with a smile as she returned, slumping down beside him and crossing her pale legs at the ankle, feet resting on the coffee table. “Mum would be so pissed if she knew I was sitting like this,” Aleisha said cheerfully. Calum laughed as she got comfortable beside him and she looked delighted when he put his feet up on the table too.

“Better not tell her then,” Calum said but he stopped talking when the film came on, settling down among the cushions as the opening credits began to play.

Calum liked the film straight away. He identified with Colin Ford’s character Dylan immediately, mainly because the boy was unhappy with his life and he was struggling to make things work. (Calum kept this idea to himself, not particularly wanting to upset Aleisha).

She was watching the film with starry eyes, lips parting occasionally as she murmured along with the characters. It probably should have been annoying but Calum just found it endearing instead, like when Mali used to sing along to their favourite songs and accidentally got the words wrong.

“Are your nails dry yet?” Aleisha asked softly when Matt Damon’s character met Scarlett Johansson’s for the first time. The younger girl's head had fallen to rest on his shoulder and Calum's arm had slipped around her instinctively. He checked carefully and nodded, his lips brushing her soft blonde hair when he looked down at her.

“Yeah,” he whispered and Aleisha smiled, pressing her soft pink lips together as she purposefully kept her eyes fixed on the screen.

“Stop talking. I’m watching the film,” she said teasingly and Calum laughed softly, relaxing back into the sofa as her arm came to rest comfortingly around his waist. Calum shifted uncomfortably, worried that she could feel how fat he was but even that faded when he saw how _gentle_ she looked when she was watching the film.

The dark-haired boy calmed beside her.

Calum loved the scene that was currently unfolding onscreen. It was raining and Dylan was trying to be brave because he was going to see the girl he liked – Lily, who also took care of the animals – and she’d changed the sign in her window to read ‘ **IF YOU LOVE ME LET ME KNOW** ’.

Calum’s heart felt like it was melting in his chest when Lily apologised for the rain and Dylan said: “ _No, I love it. I love your hair. I love your sign. Lily, I love **you**._ ”

The two characters hugged through the window in the rain, arms wrapped tightly around each other like they never wanted to let go, the words lighting up the darkness as they clung to each other.

Calum’s chocolate brown eyes were sparkling with tears when he looked up but he faltered when he found Aleisha already gazing at him.

“Cal,” she breathed.

Her lips found his and her fingers tangled in his dark curls when his palms spread out warm across her back, wanting her closer. Aleisha’s long sandy hair tumbled down around them like a waterfall, hiding everything else from view. For just a moment, Calum lost himself in it; in the taste of her mouth and the smell of her perfume and the feeling of her fingers gently stroking the overheated skin at the back of his neck as she settled down in his lap.

" _Leish_."

Calum’s breath punched out of him in a gasp and he couldn’t stand the heat unfurling in his stomach because this was _Aleisha_ – it felt just like Violet all over again – and Calum had just promised himself that they weren’t going to mess things up.

Aleisha had a boyfriend and, if Calum did this, he was no better than Ashton or Luke and –

Damnit, _Luke_.

The dark-haired boy was betraying him.

Calum's heart was aching in his chest – with guilt or love; he wasn’t sure anymore – but he could already tell by the pain on her face that she knew they weren’t going to work out either… because they couldn’t. Of _course_ they couldn’t.

Things never happened the way they were supposed to.

“I’m sorry,” Calum whispered but the word felt insignificant somehow. Aleisha wiped her eyes with the back of her hand but she didn’t look angry… more shell-shocked, like she hadn’t expected this to happen either.

“I’m sorry too,” she breathed and Calum knew it was the truth. He could see it in her eyes.

“I… I think I’m going to go home now,” the dark-haired boy said softly, voice weak and _so_ exhausted. Aleisha hit pause on the film with trembling hands. “But… but we can watch the rest of this… some other time? Yeah?”

“Okay,” the younger girl said but her eyes were still wet and she was frowning into the corner of the shadowy room, keeping her gaze away from Calum’s face. “You can paint my nails next time instead.”

“Sure,” Calum said, relieved that she was still trying to keep things vaguely normal after whatever the hell _that_ had been. “I… I’ll text you later then?”

“Tomorrow,” she said and there was something wobbly in her voice that made Calum want to run for cover. “Text me tomorrow instead.”

“Okay,” the dark-haired boy breathed. He rose shakily but hesitated before he left, biting his full bottom lip before he reached to give her a gentle hug. Calum kept his grip purposefully loose enough that she could pull away if she wanted to but Aleisha didn’t; she just clung to him for a moment instead, tucking her face away into the warm skin of his neck like Lily had done to Dylan before she drew back, eyelashes spiky with tears as she gave him a watery smile.

“Go home, you idiot,” she said softly, voice fond and wet. Calum smiled like he _wasn’t_ about to cry, brushing her shoulder gently with his knuckles before he slipped out of the house.

He was trying not to dwell on how the hug had made him aware that things felt different between them now and, _fuck_ , Calum hoped it wasn’t irreparable.

She meant so much to him after all… just not in the right way.

Calum walked home slowly, cigarette held loosely between his fingers as he tried to ignore the painful twisting of his knotted stomach. His throat burnt faintly from where he’d scratched at it in his desperation the night before.

Calum felt like he’d betrayed Luke. It didn't make any difference to him that, arguably, the blonde boy was betraying Aleisha too by being with Ashton (not that that was actually even _happening_ anymore but… but that probably wasn’t the point).

Calum’s dark eyes burnt with tears but he tried to convince himself that it was the nicotine rush making him dizzy and _not_ the guilt he could feel festering inside.

The dark-haired boy tried to distract himself from the anxiety he could feel tightening his lungs and that came in the form of a quote from the film: “ _Sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it_.”

It had only taken twenty seconds to almost ruin everything with Aleisha but Calum was barely dwelling on that anymore.

He was thinking about **Michael** instead… thinking about everything he could tell Michael in twenty seconds… and then Calum remembered the older boy’s cherry-red lips moving to form the words: “What the fuck?” and the love-bite sucked by someone else into his pale skin, and suddenly Calum wasn’t so sure anymore.

He stumbled off the pavement, heading for the woodland near the beach because it was the only place he felt whole anymore. _Free_.

As soon as Calum’s eyes settled on the tree where he’d kissed Michael though – and the patch of pebbly sand where he’d sat beside Luke and listened to his story – the dark-haired boy knew he’d made a mistake in coming here.

It made him **feel** too much. Calum felt like he was being torn apart.

The dark-haired boy cried until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

Part of him hoped he never would again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this was okay!  
> Please let me know what you thought of it :) <3


	64. Silver Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _“Have you been crying?” Michael breathed suddenly and Calum felt how hot his cheeks were with the trembling pads of his fingers… blinked his sore, tear-wet eyes and lost the will to fight anymore._  
>  _“Yeah,” he said since there didn’t seem to be much point in lying anymore. Not to Michael._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter felt so important to write - I really hope you guys will enjoy it!  
> I loved writing this one <3

**_We're going down this road,_ **

**_With tears in our rear view mirror,_ **

**_Far from home,_ **

**_But in the dark you'll know,_ **

**_With me you've got nothing to fear._ **

_\- Runaways, All Time Low_

 

Calum couldn’t bring himself to go home that night.

The sense of foreboding he could feel in his aching chest only multiplied when he started down his road. He could still smell the lingering scent of sea salt in the air, the eucalyptus leaves and – _damnit_ – that apple-and-smoke smell that accompanied Aleisha everywhere.

He hadn’t even walked down his driveway when he heard the all-too-familiar sound of his father shouting. The dark-haired boy heard the dull crashing sound of something smashing against the wall and his mother crying, and Calum’s heart felt like it had stopped beating in his chest because his parents didn’t even seem to care what people thought of them anymore. Maybe _they_ had fallen too far to be scared too.

Calum’s eyes were burning and his breath was still catching painfully in his chest from how much he’d been crying. He couldn’t bring himself to go home tonight. All he had to do was open the door and sneak upstairs but, suddenly, it was too much – _crushing_ him almost, like being in there left him no room to breathe.

Calum walked back down the driveway, shivering a little in his school uniform with his bag hanging heavy on his shoulder. It was almost fully dark now and his empty stomach was growling as it twisted itself into painful knots. Somewhere nearby, Calum could hear a dog howling.

Up ahead, a car swung round the corner and – despite veering up the kerb like the driver wasn’t _totally_ in control – came to a surprisingly neat (if slightly jerky) stop nearby. Calum squinted but he couldn’t work out who it was until the window was opened stiffly and a familiar face peered out owlishly at him.

“Cal?” Michael’s voice was rough and warm, so familiar that it made tears well in Calum’s eyes again. Michael’s uncle was sitting in the passenger seat and he gave the dark-haired boy a small wave that Calum shakily returned. Apparently Graham had been teaching Michael to drive and the knowledge that Calum hadn’t even _known_ made him want to break down because… god, once they’d shared _everything_ together.

“What’re you doing outside?” Michael frowned, red hair fluttering in a light breeze. His green eyes looked worried when Calum shivered at the cold. “Forget your door key or something?”

“No…” Calum’s voice was weak and hoarse from how much he’d been crying but he hoped no one would mention it. Michael’s eyes flickered warily over towards his old house and, when Calum stepped aside to block the view, the red-haired boy looked relieved. “I just… don’t want to go home tonight.”

‘ _Because I kissed Aleisha. Because I’m losing everyone I care about. Because I’m ruining **everything**._ ’

Graham’s expression became vaguely concerned when he heard that but Michael twisted in his seat, muttering something in a vaguely whiny tone until his uncle shrugged. The older boy turned back to Calum with a curious mixture of anticipation and worry twisting his pale face.

“You want to stay at Gray’s tonight?” Michael asked hopefully and Calum’s knees weakened with relief as he nodded jerkily, looking towards the nurse for confirmation.

“You’re welcome to stay,” Graham said and, despite any misgivings he may have had about Calum being out alone like this, he seemed to mean it.

Michael looked pleased – for a moment at least, and then he must have taken his foot off the clutch because the car stalled dramatically and Michael pouted. Graham grinned at him, rolling his eyes as he got out of the car and motioned for his nephew to do the same.

“I think you’ve had enough driving for today, mate,” Graham said, green eyes twinkling. “I’ll take over now. You sit in the back with Calum, okay? It’s only a five minute drive.”

“Ten if we get stuck at the lights again,” Michael interjected but he didn’t look particularly unhappy at the prospect of sitting beside the dark-haired boy. “Or fifteen if another old lady tries to cross on a hill again.”

“Ah, but you’re forgetting that I actually know how to correctly execute a hill start,” Graham said with this smug little ‘ _so there_ ’ sound that made Michael go as red as his hair. Calum’s expression softened though because seeing his best friend fighting a smile like that reminded Calum of happier times.

“C’mon in then, Cal,” Michael said, drawing the younger boy from his thoughts. “After you.”

Calum climbed into the dark interior of the car quickly, keen to get out of the cold that was making his fingers shake. The cool wind had been biting at his mouth but at least that sensation meant he couldn’t feel Aleisha’s lips against his own anymore – a small silver lining.

Graham strapped himself in and told the boys to do the same before he restarted the engine, turning the rock music playing on the radio up like he could tell they needed to talk. Michael twisted in his seat to look at his best friend and Calum found himself gazing back despite his better judgement. Michael’s red hair was messy where he’d been tugging his fingers through it nervously and there was a faint blush spreading down his throat. The love-bite was almost gone now, hidden under the neck of the big soft hoody he was wearing.

When Calum strapped himself into the middle seat instead of the one beside the door, Michael made a small pleased noise in the back of his throat as his arm slipped warmly around the younger boy’s shoulders.

“Have you been crying?” Michael breathed suddenly and Calum felt how hot his cheeks were with the trembling pads of his fingers… blinked his sore, tear-wet eyes and lost the will to fight anymore.

“Yeah,” he said since there didn’t seem to be much point in lying anymore. Not to Michael. “But I don’t wanna talk about it. Please.”

“That’s okay,” Michael whispered, turning his head so that his lips brushed Calum’s dark curls gently. The younger boy closed his eyes tightly against the sudden rush of tears. He didn’t feel like he deserved the comfort.

Reaching down, Michael took Calum's hand where it was resting limply in his lap and, despite the dark-haired boy flinching in surprise, he didn't pull his hand away. Neither of them spoke for a little while but Calum felt more content now, face tucked away safely beneath Michael’s chin as Sum 41 played on the radio and the familiar, comforting scent of the older boy lulled Calum enough that his anxiety abated.

Michael was playing with Calum’s fingers, a tiny look of awe on his face as he stroked them with his thumb. Calum remembered Michael crying the last time they’d been together, saying he didn’t want to touch anything… but apparently Calum wasn’t included in that (and if this realisation sent warmth blooming in Calum’s chest, he didn’t have to admit it to anyone, least of all himself).

“You’re wearing nail varnish,” Michael noticed, looking at it. He smoothed his thumb over the shiny black polish and Calum’s heart shuddered in his chest at the soft touch. “No Mali this time though...” Michael’s voice trailed away but the dark-haired boy wasn’t worried about his best friend judging him. Michael wore _eyeliner_ sometimes (and _damnit_ , he looked hot.)

“I just like it,” Calum whispered.

“So do I,” Michael said quietly and the tiny smile curving his lips made Calum’s heart race in his chest. “You should try blue,” the older boy said, letting his burning cheek fall to rest against the cool glass of the window. “Like your t-shirt for The Maine, right? You look so good in blue, Cal.”

Calum’s burning cheeks felt like they were about to catch fire and he felt _small_ when he let his head fall to rest more comfortably on Michael’s shoulder. Graham turned the radio up louder, like maybe he was trying to convince them that he wasn’t listening, and Calum just appreciated it a lot.

“Why didn’t you want to go home?” Michael whispered, so close that his warm cherry-red lips brushed the younger boy’s soft cheek. Calum shuddered.

“I…” The dark-haired boy didn’t know where to begin but he knew he couldn’t tell Michael about his parents, _especially_ not when Graham was sitting in the front of the car and there was the slightest chance he might overhear.

In the end, Calum settled on a half-truth.

“When… when Mali’s not there,” Calum said slowly, his voice little more than a breath. “The whole house feels empty... and I can’t stand it.” Calum didn’t know how to articulate how lost it made him feel… how hollow and raw he felt when he crept into her empty bedroom and lay on her bed, face pressed into the pillow to smell the faintest hint of her perfume… but the flowery scent had faded now.

Mali was gone.

Calum remembered that night in the park suddenly – the time when his best friend had realised his sister had left again. Calum remembered how he'd stolen a bottle of whiskey and snuck out to meet with Michael, and it felt like a million years ago now.

He remembered the concern in his best friend's eyes and the gentle, hesitant way he tangled his fingers with Calum's.

By the nostalgic expression on Michael's face now, Calum figured maybe the older boy was remembering too.

"Are you thinking about -"

"Yeah," Michael breathed and his emerald green eyes looked wet in the passing streetlights as Graham carefully manoeuvred the car onto the driveway. "We lay under the apple tree –" His voice dropped even lower and Calum's heart shuddered in his chest at the next words the older boy spoke. "– and I wanted to kiss you."

Calum’s eyes prickled with fresh tears but the pads of Michael’s fingers were soft when he carefully raised the younger boy’s chin and the kiss Calum pressed to Michael’s lips was enough to keep them both calm.

Graham didn’t seem to notice – or maybe he was just being kind and pretending – but, for just a split-second, Calum didn’t care what anyone else thought. Michael smelt like chocolate and mint, and his skin was warm as he held Calum safely to his chest.

The feeling of security faded slowly when Calum remembered how wrong this was – and, if it felt like he was trying to convince himself now, that could be his secret – but Calum stayed pressed warmly to the older boy’s side until it was time to get out of the car.

“I don’t have any spare clothes,” Calum mumbled as they walked up the drive towards the house. Graham held the door open for them and his eyebrows rose in surprise when Michael knelt to take his own shoes off, fingers shaking as he tugged at the laces. Calum watched them in silence but Michael distracted him when he suddenly seemed to process what the younger boy had said.

“At least it’s a Friday night, Cal,” the red-haired boy said softly. “You can just borrow some of my stuff until you go home tomorrow. Have you told your parents you’re staying here?”

“Good idea,” Calum said, easing his phone out of his pocket with shaking fingers. It kind of ached when it rubbed against the fresher cuts on his thigh but Calum kept his expression carefully blank as he tapped out a quick message to his mum before he turned his phone off.

He hoped she was okay.

“You guys want dinner?” Graham called from the kitchen and Calum stiffened when he saw Michael’s emerald eyes become curiously hollow as he looked at the dark-haired boy.

“Thanks but I’ve already eaten,” Calum called as he undid his shoes, turning away and forcing a smile onto his face so that he sounded more relaxed than he felt. Behind him, Michael let out a small sad sigh.

“I’ll just grab a snack later, Gray, but thank you,” the red-haired boy said heavily but he was fiddling with an elastic band he’d snagged off the table beside the door now, snapping it too hard against his fingers, and his green eyes looked sad as he gestured for the younger boy to lead the way upstairs.

Calum felt empty by the time he slumped down onto Michael’s bed, like the knowledge that he was losing everyone he cared about was stealing the air from his lungs. Calum’s hand tightened around Michael’s and the red-haired boy wrapped his arm securely around Calum’s waist, holding him closer.

“It’s okay,” Michael promised and Calum relaxed against him, didn’t even feel _fat_ when Michael was looking at him like he’d hung the stars in the sky. Calum sniffed tearfully and Michael pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of the younger boy’s mouth, only kissing him again – slower and deeper, and _dizzyingly_ hot – when Calum made a tiny needy noise in the back of his throat as his fingers rose to tangle in Michael’s red hair, anchoring him there.

“It’s okay to not be okay, Cal,” Michael said against his lips, his hand warm through Calum’s shirt as he touched the younger boy’s chest, right over his heart. “You’ve just got to remember that.”

Later, when Michael went downstairs for food and Calum insisted he was too tired to eat anything, the sadness came back, washing slowly at first before it crashed down over Calum in waves.

Michael looked upset when he came back upstairs but he was carrying two mugs of soup, one of which he pushed into the dark-haired boy’s unresisting hands, and Michael wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Calum’s eyes burnt as he pushed himself up into a sitting position but… but he needed _something_ to keep going… needed a _tiny_ bit of energy so that he could pass his exams and try to make his parents proud because… god, even _Nina_ had eaten.

She couldn’t be the Swan Queen if she was too weak to stand up... and Calum couldn't be perfect.

The dark-haired boy drank a tiny sip of the soup; it was chicken and it burnt his tongue but it tasted so good that he didn’t even _care_. Calum and Michael sat beside each other in silence, duvet pooled around their waists as they drank.

Michael squared his jaw when Calum set his empty mug down with shaking hands, his green eyes burning with tears. The red-haired boy looked away and, for just a moment, Calum thought he was angry with him... and then Michael pulled Calum into his arms and pressed a kiss to his forehead as he whispered how sorry he was.

For what, Michael refused to say but – as Calum lay there in his arms with their legs tangled together beneath the duvet – it felt like the start of something.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought! <3


	65. Butterfly Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _“What are we?” Calum whispered. There were still tears rolling down his cheeks even now and Michael looked surprised at the question._  
>  _“Whatever you want us to be.”_  
>  _“I want us to be_ something _."_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, did someone ask for a chapter with a hugely misleading sweet title? Well this is it. It started off fluffy... and then it got smutty... and then I made it horrible (sorry not sorry).  
> BUT THERE ARE TWO BIG BITS OF DEVELOPMENT IN THIS SO KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED. (This chapter is the reason certain events in Maelstrom happened so I'll be interested to see if you can work it out...)  
> Enjoy :D

**_I said just call it what you want,_ **

**_Call it what you want._ **

_\- Call It What You Want, Foster The People_

 

Calum woke up slowly, cradled safely in Michael’s arms as the pair of them lay snuggled beneath the duvet. His cheek was pressed to Michael’s bare chest and the red-haired boy’s hands were warm on Calum’s back through the long-sleeved grey t-shirt the older boy had lent him. The sun hadn’t yet risen and the curtains were pulled shut to keep any light out but there was just enough that Calum could see the glitter of Michael’s eyes when he looked at him.

“Morning,” Michael said and Calum’s lips twitched up despite himself as he cuddled the older boy tighter, still sleepy enough that he couldn’t find it in himself to be anxious.

“Morning,” Calum mumbled back, his lips warm against Michael’s bare chest. “How long have you been awake?”

Michael looked surprisingly alert for so early in the morning but Calum was too tired to process the bags under Michael’s eyes which indicated that maybe the red-haired boy hadn’t been able to sleep due to worrying the night before.

“Not that long. I woke up when I heard Gray leaving for his shift,” the red-haired boy said but a tiny smile curled his lips when Calum pressed a butterfly kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I was thinking about you.” A part of Calum wanted to know what _exactly_ Michael had been thinking about but he settled for blushing instead, too exhausted from how emotional he’d been the day before to feel panicked now. Michael was warm and familiar against him, and Calum felt safer than he had done in a long time.

He could smell the familiar chocolate-mint smell of Michael’s skin and the older boy’s clothes smelt clean as he huddled up in them. Calum was wearing a pair of Michael’s sweatpants under the grey top and they were surprisingly loose around Calum’s hips. He couldn’t believe that they were too big for him; it didn’t make any sense because Calum could _see_ how fat he was but… they were still barely staying up, even with the drawstring.

Michael had fallen asleep in boxers and pyjama shorts the night before, and Calum’s cheek was still resting on his bare chest now. The younger boy trailed his fingertips over Michael’s pale skin and the older boy shivered as his hands became a little heavier on Calum’s back, holding him closer.

“You’re cold?” Calum worried and Michael’s lips brushed Calum’s forehead when the dark-haired boy flattened his palm on Michael’s chest, stroking the warm skin idly.

“No,” Michael answered but he shivered again when Calum’s fingertip brushed his pebbled nipple gently. “Not cold.” There was a blush spreading down Michael’s throat and seeping into his chest now, and Calum was struck again – as he had been the last time they’d been together – at how _sensitive_ the older boy’s torso seemed to be.

Calum touched Michael’s nipple a second time, rolling it between his finger and thumb unthinkingly before his hand slid down to stroke the older boy’s stomach. The muscles jumped under Calum’s touch and Michael’s breath escaped him in a little hiss of air. Calum withdrew his hand, cheeks flaming now.

“Sorry,” the dark-haired boy breathed, wriggling away so that Michael wouldn’t feel how he was half-hard. Calum felt Michael smile against his skin in the darkness before the older boy rolled them so that he was lying on top. Calum’s breath escaped him in a gasp when he felt Michael pressing down against him, _just_ as hard as Calum was.

“Don’t be,” Michael whispered and his voice was lower now, rougher with lust. His hands fell to settle on Calum’s hips beneath the duvet and it might have felt like he almost couldn’t breathe with how close they were pressed together but the younger boy _loved_ it.

Michael’s full cherry-red lips felt so good against Calum’s as his hands tangled in the younger boy’s dark fluffy curls. Michael’s tongue stroked hot over Calum’s and the dark-haired boy fought against the stupid whimper that wanted to claw its way out of his throat. Michael broke the kiss to suck a bruise into the tanned skin of Calum’s shoulder instead, nosing the stretched-out collar aside, and the younger boy felt heat pooling in his stomach as he gripped Michael’s shoulders securely. Calum’s voice broke when he gasped out a desperate: “ _Mike_.”

The red-haired boy gave an experimental roll of his hips and Calum choked on a moan as he felt himself hardening.

“Do you –” Michael began but Calum didn’t even let him finish his sentence before he was nodding frantically, shaking hands falling to grip Michael’s hips, holding him closer.

“ _Yes_ ,” Calum breathed and he wanted to be embarrassed at how far gone he already sounded but the older boy was grinding down against him now, clothed cocks dragging together so perfectly that Calum felt himself starting to leak as his eyes rolled shut. Nothing else mattered anymore. “Fuck, yes, Mikey, _please_.”

Michael’s hands were tighter on Calum’s hips now, gripping them to give him better leverage to thrust up against Calum as the pleasure burning through the younger boy made him feel dizzy. Michael looked to be in a similar state, cheeks flushed and bottom lip swollen from where he was biting at it as a low moan tore out of him when Calum’s hips rocked up to meet his.

The room was getting gradually lighter – grey rather than black now – and the younger boy's hands were shaking faintly as he stroked Michael's red hair. They were lying on their sides now, still grinding together, and Calum was leaking so much that there was a wet patch on the front of his boxers. Michael’s fingertips kept skirting around the waistband of his sweatpants, the touch just firm enough that it didn’t tickle.

“Why don’t we – not take ‘em off – just… pull ‘em down a bit?” Michael suggested in a mumble when he saw Calum looking up at him with wide eyes. After a moment of hesitation – during which Michael stopped grinding and Calum tried not to whimper at the loss of friction – the dark-haired boy nodded. He wasn’t particularly worried though; even with his trousers and boxers pulled down enough that his cock was free, Calum was pretty sure his cuts were still covered, and the duvet was pulled warmly over them both anyway so it hardly mattered.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Calum groaned when Michael settled back against him, his own thick cock rubbing up against Calum’s, already leaking pre-cum. Calum’s breathing became ragged when Michael began to grind against him again, slippery and _achingly_ hard, and Calum’s chocolate brown eyes were wide with shock at how good it felt.

Calum couldn’t even be jealous that Michael seemed to know _exactly_ what he needed to do to make this feel good for both of them because… fuck, Calum was losing himself in the sensations. All he could focus on was quite how _naked_ Michael felt beneath his searching hands as Calum fell apart against him.

The dark-haired boy was rolling his hips up as hard as he could to meet Michael’s thrusts and he knew he lacked any discernible technique at all but it still must have felt good because the older boy’s cheeks matched his hair now, and the tiny moans and grunts he was burying in the tanned skin of Calum’s neck were only turning the younger boy on even more. Calum could already feel the heat beginning to settle in his thighs.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Michael rasped suddenly and his next words dragged a moan from Calum. “I’m gonna cum. _Cal_ , fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Michael’s cock was swelling with how close he was now and he was fucking up against Calum even harder, the bed squeaking in protest as Calum’s cheeks flamed and he pulled his best friend even tighter against him. Michael’s balls were drawn up tight to his body and his flushed chest was heaving as he panted, cherry-red lips falling open around a silent moan as he rutted against Calum, desperation etched into his blushing face like it wasn’t _quite_ enough to fall over the edge.

Through the pleasure clouding his brain, Calum’s hand settled on Michael’s back and he held him closer than ever, grinding up to meet him as he ducked his head to mouth at the older boy’s bare shoulder, scraping his teeth lightly against the skin.

Michael fell apart with a strangled groan, shooting cum between the warm press of their bodies as his hips jerked. Calum forgot his own desperation for a moment, still sleepy and so turned on that his head felt clouded as he reached to cup Michael’s face gently, thumbing the tears away that were welling in the older boy's beautiful green eyes.

‘ _I love you_ ,’ Calum wanted to say but of course he didn’t. He choked the words down instead, felt his eyes widen in shock before he tucked his face away into Michael’s neck, smoothing his hands comfortingly up and down the older boy’s back as he tried to calm his breathing.

“ _God_ , Cally,” Michael breathed, voice weak as his body finally stopped trembling through the aftershocks. His palms were soft as he stroked Calum’s hips again but even _that_ was getting the dark-haired boy worked up now and Calum wanted to be disgusted or embarrassed that Michael’s cum was cooling on his hard cock but the younger boy just couldn’t because it was _hot_.

“ _Mikey_ ,” Calum whimpered - he honest-to-god _whimpered_ it - and his chocolate brown eyes were damp with desperate tears now as the older boy wrapped one arm securely around Calum’s waist to hold him closer. With his free hand, Michael’s palm settled warm on Calum’s hard cock where it was lying - flushed and leaking at the tip - against the soft material of his shirt. The dark-haired boy whimpered when Michael smeared his thumb over the slit and his hips jerked when Michael spread the pre-cum down the shaft.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” the red-haired boy murmured, voice rough now as he curled his fingers around Calum’s cock, making the younger boy’s breath tear out of him in a ragged gasp. When Michael gave Calum’s cock a gentle squeeze and started to jerk him off properly, the dark-haired boy’s expression became content because Calum only ever wanted to feel like he was being looked after and... god, now he finally _did_. This was all he ever wanted.

Michael’s fingers felt so good wrapped around him, mostly soft but with just a few callouses from playing the guitar for so many years. Michael twisted his fist over the head and Calum moaned brokenly as his curls started to stick to his forehead with sweat.

Calum’s breath caught in his throat when Michael’s hand eased tentatively under the waistband at the back and Calum buried his moan in Michael’s shoulder as the red-haired boy filled his palm with Calum’s warm flesh, kneading it gently until Calum was shaking against him, mouth falling open as his hips started to fuck into the older boy’s fist. Michael slid his finger hesitantly between Calum’s cheeks, grazing his fingertip over the younger boy’s hole.

“ _Mikey_!” Calum squeezed his dark eyes tightly shut, fingers biting into the thick muscle of Michael’s shoulders as the older boy began to circle his fingertip slowly, making Calum’s cock jump in his fist. His breath was escaping him in pants now and he was leaking pre-cum everywhere, and Calum found it hard to believe that this was all because Michael was – _fuck_ – touching his hole.

The problem was that when Michael touched him there, the sensation made Calum _worryingly_ aware of what it made him want and… god, how was Calum supposed to wrap his head around the fact that he thought he might _really_ want Michael to fuck him? That was _wrong_ , wasn’t it? Just like being with Michael like this now was…

Except it didn’t _feel_ wrong. Michael’s fingertip felt _amazing_ instead and his fingers rolling over the head of Calum’s cock as he fisted him made the younger boy’s head swim with lust.

“You want me to finger you?” Michael asked hesitantly and Calum’s encouraging moan was embarrassingly loud because… okay, maybe Calum _did_ want Michael to fuck him into the mattress but he could settle for this; for Michael’s fingertip teasing him and making him clench down as moans tore out of him.

“ _Please_ ,” Calum whimpered and he was too far gone to be embarrassed now… too desperate to regret finally telling Michael what he wanted.

The red-haired boy’s fingertip was teasing his hole again and Calum could feel his muscles fluttering as whines clawed their way out of his throat. Michael’s finger kept feeling like it was about to dip in and Calum was _so_ hard now, leaking all over Michael’s fist as the pleasure bubbled in his stomach like magma.

“Need to take these off,” Michael murmured, fingers brushing the soft grey material of the sweatpants as he unwillingly let go of Calum’s cock. The dark-haired boy felt himself pale visibly at that and Michael’s expression softened, became sadder and sweeter as he leant forwards to press a tiny kiss to the younger boy’s full lips in the dawn light. “You can stay under the duvet, Cal. I won’t look at you if you don’t want me to. I promise.”

Calum’s heart felt like it was swelling in his chest as he took in the absolute sincerity on Michael’s face and he was too desperate to question it now. He just nodded jerkily and struggled out of his sweatpants beneath the duvet, kicking his boxers off too and leaving them tangled around his ankle so that he could find them easily afterwards.

“You definitely okay with this?” Michael checked when he took a little bottle of lube from his bedside table. Calum was too needy to tease him now and the blush colouring Michael’s cheeks faded with relief as he reached to stroke the younger boy’s dark curls gently.

“ _Please_ , Mike,” Calum begged and his voice was hoarse now but Michael’s fingertip had started to stroke over his hole again, and he could feel himself getting lost in the sensation as the heat washed over him.

Michael nodded, emerald green eyes slightly dazed now as he drew away to slick his finger up, making sure it was properly covered. Calum bit his full bottom lip to keep his moan in when he looked at him and he was shocked that he didn’t feel _scared_ for a moment before he remembered that this was Michael… and that meant there was no _reason_ to be. The red-haired boy had always kept him safe before and Calum knew this was no different.

“Mikey, _p-please_ ,” Calum whispered but his voice still broke and Michael’s expression was soft when he pressed a gentle kiss to the younger boy’s shoulder through the thin long-sleeved t-shirt he was wearing.

"Just relax," the older boy cautioned gently as he began to stroke over Calum again, getting him wet. When Michael finally stopped teasing him and pushed his finger inside properly, Calum let out an embarrassingly loud whimper but he barely even _noticed_ it because… fuck, he’d never felt _anything_ like this before. His black nails were scratching at Michael’s back now and Calum was so turned on by the pressure as Michael’s finger sank in deeper that he didn’t even know what to do with himself anymore.

“ _Oh my fucking god_ ,” Calum whined when Michael thrust his finger shallowly a few times before he worked it in deeper, making the dark-haired boy’s toes curl with pleasure. “ _Mike_ –” Calum could hardly breathe with how close he was now, panting and whining as he spread his legs under the duvet, working his arse back onto Michael’s finger without even processing that he was doing it. Michael’s lips found his and Calum groaned into his mouth when Michael stroked his tongue over Calum’s, kissing the younger boy hot for a moment before he drew back to bite Calum’s lip. The dark-haired boy moaned like he was about to cum right then.

“Fuck, Cal,” Michael breathed, emerald green eyes reverent almost as he touched Calum’s cock again, stroking it gently with his palm before he began to fist it in time with the thrusts of his finger.

“No one –” Calum tried to tell Michael but his voice kept catching and tiny moans were pouring out of him all the time now, like he couldn’t talk when Michael’s finger was fucking into him so good. It felt important to tell Michael that he was the only one Calum would ever let have this though. “Never –”

“Not even yourself?” Michael breathed, instantly knowing what the younger boy was trying to say because they were still this close even now, and Michael's eyes were growing darker with lust again, like fingering Calum was getting him hard and – _Fuck_ , Michael was fingering Calum!

The dark-haired boy shook his head jerkily in answer to the older boy’s question and Michael groaned, ducking down to kiss Calum bitingly again.

“Oh my god, Calum,” the red-haired boy murmured, voice so rough that Calum felt sparks shooting all the way down to his cock, leaking and flushed an angry red in Michael’s pale fist.

Calum was panting now, curls stuck to his forehead, hands still scrabbling at Michael’s bare shoulders for purchase as the heat boiled in his stomach and his balls drew tighter to his body. He wasn’t going to last much longer but it felt so good that Calum didn’t even care.

“How’re you so – _fuck_ – so _good_?” the dark-haired boy demanded but his voice came out weak with lust and Michael looked ridiculously pleased with himself as he scattered kisses across Calum’s shoulder where his shirt had slipped aside.

“Just doing what I like,” Michael muttered, cheeks flaming, and Calum had to squeeze his eyes tightly shut again upon hearing that because he almost came just picturing it: Michael lying there with his pretty pink cock flushed and leaking onto his stomach, two fingers sliding inside himself and curling as he searched for the spot that would make everything melt away into pleasure.

That was how Calum felt now because Michael had just curled his finger slightly, fingertip nudging against Calum’s prostate. It felt like every muscle in Calum’s body had melted as the loudest moan yet tore out of him because _fuck_ , Calum had never imagined it would feel that _good_.

“Was that –?”

“ _Yes_!” Calum cried desperately and Michael went quiet, focusing properly on hitting that magical spot every single time as Calum’s hips rocked up to fuck Michael’s fist. His breath was coming even faster now and there was so much pre-cum that Michael’s palm was slick with it as Calum’s cock glided through his fist.

Calum was making sounds like he was crying but he didn’t even _care_ because Michael was gazing at him with undisguised affection as he murmured soft nothings into Calum’s ear to keep him calm, and the dark-haired boy could feel his muscles tightening around Michael’s finger as he bucked his hips into the older boy’s fist, chasing the friction.

He needed to cum so much that it almost _hurt_ now and, when Michael’s fist caught on the head of his cock as the older boy’s finger pressed more firmly against his prostate, Calum’s whole body heaved forwards under the duvet as his orgasm was punched out of him.

Calum was sobbing into Michael’s neck as he came, arse clenching around Michael’s finger rhythmically as his cum mixed with Michael’s between them. The red-haired boy let Calum’s cock go gently when he started to flinch and a tear leaked down Calum’s cheek at how oversensitive he felt when Michael carefully withdrew his finger, wiping his hands on the rumpled sheets.

“Are you okay?” Michael asked after a long moment. Calum was still crying, cheeks flushed red as he wiped his tears away shakily. He struggled into his sweatpants and boxers under the duvet, wincing when he caught the cuts on his leg and probably opened some of them up again. Michael never once tried to look under the duvet though – didn’t ask any questions or make the younger boy feel bad about it – and Calum just appreciated it a lot.

“I’m f-fine,” the dark-haired boy said but his voice cracked and he was shaking now. Michael was lying down nearby, flat on his back as he breathed heavily, his expression vaguely stunned. The red-haired boy was watching him anxiously though and Calum hesitated for a moment before he curled up beside Michael again, letting his head fall to rest gently on the older boy’s shoulder.

“What are we?” Calum whispered. There were still tears rolling down his cheeks even now and Michael looked surprised at the question.

“Whatever you want us to be,” he answered after a long moment.

Calum sniffed, expression growing despondent.

_'Nothing? Everything?'_

“I don’t know,” he said out loud.

Michael just closed his eyes against the tears welling up as he kissed him, his hand cradling Calum’s cheek gently as he tried to push all of the things he couldn’t say between Calum’s parted lips.

The dark-haired boy was clinging to Michael again now, holding him so tightly like he was afraid of letting go. Calum’s actions were a direct contradiction to what he’d been trying so hard to believe because… damnit, of _course_ he wanted this. Being that close to Michael was _incredible_ and that was what hurt the most. Calum wished the kiss with Aleisha had felt like this… because maybe in another life they would have been together by now but not in this one. Not when Calum was the way he was…

Not when he was in love with Michael.

“I want us to be _something_ ,” Calum whispered without meaning to. Michael’s eyes were soft and glazed with tears.

“We already are,” he breathed. “ **MichaelAndCalum** , right? Through it all.”

“Through it all,” the dark-haired boy echoed.

Michael gave Calum one last comforting squeeze but his face fell when the dark-haired boy suddenly tensed up, his stomach twisting with nerves as he began to panic that Michael could feel how fat he was.

“You can have the first shower,” Michael said softly, pushing himself up into a sitting position as he began to mop himself up as best he could with a tissue, looking faintly disgusted. “I’ll start on breakfast.”

“Oh, I don’t want breakfast,” Calum said quickly and Michael’s face fell, his expression becoming downcast as he struggled out of bed to find a jumper.

“Of course you don’t,” the red-haired boy said quietly but there was something dark in his face as he turned away.

Michael was still dwelling on it later that evening when Calum had been gone for _hours_.

Graham had got back from his shift and found the red-haired boy sitting immobile on the sofa, legs crossed and staring blankly at the television set (which had been switched off) as he snapped an elastic band against his fingers.

Graham brought Michael a toastie to eat but it got cold on the coffee table, neglected as the red-haired boy just _kept_ staring. His uncle watched him nervously and he flinched when Michael finally looked at him with glassy eyes.

“Did something happen, mate?” Graham asked gently as he sat down beside his nephew. Michael’s lips twitched humourlessly.

“Yeah,” the teenager said softly. His emerald green eyes looked wet but he was frowning down at his hands now… at the red marks on his fingers from where the elastic band had snapped against them. “I realised something today.”

“Did Calum help with that?” Graham asked softly and Michael laughed, sounding very much like he was about to start crying.

“You could say that,” Michael said but he was thinking about the secrets in Calum’s eyes and how much it hurt to be close to him because… god, if Calum said being away from Michael reminded him of how _wrong_ what they were doing was then… then being away from Calum made Michael feel like his _heart_ had been cut right out of his chest.

“I don’t really love him,” Michael said quietly, the words fierce and bitter, and Graham’s eyes widened in surprise. “I just made it up before.” He wasn’t lying. He _wasn’t_. “I was wrong. I never loved him at all.”

“Mike –” Graham began uneasily but Michael shrugged his uncle’s hand off his shoulder, rising with an apologetic look on his flushed face as he raked a hand through his red hair anxiously. The elastic band snapped apart when Michael started to tug at it anew and his green eyes widened when Graham’s expression became deeply concerned.

“I’m gonna go shower,” Michael said before he ran out of the room, almost falling on the stairs in his haste to get away from the sympathy on his uncle’s face because the red-haired boy couldn’t _stand_ that.

Michael stood under the shower spray until the hot water had run icy cold, keeping his head tilted back so that the stream caught him full in the face and washed away his tears.

Michael didn’t drown though.

Unfortunately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading!  
> I really hope this was okay - please let me know what you thought by leaving comments and kudos as it means the whole world <3


	66. In The Shade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _“Stay in Canberra,” Calum pleaded, voice thick with tears. “Stay with Harry.”_  
>  _Calum couldn’t let Mali give up her happiness. Not for him._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken a while - I took a little break and I've been having some issues at work and stuff so yeah, I had to take a little while off this fic. Fingers crossed you guys will like this though!

**_Wanna make you mine, but that's hard to say._ **

**_Is this coming off in a cheesy way?_ **

**_I love everything you do._ **

_\- Training Wheels, Melanie Martinez_

 

‘ _I love you_.’

Calum couldn’t believe he’d almost said it again. There was something about the desperation burning in Michael’s emerald green eyes and the gentle way he touched the younger boy that unhinged Calum’s brain, and the dark-haired boy knew it wouldn’t end well.

He also knew that there was literally nothing he could do about it though.

Michael shone too brightly to be ignored. Calum’s love for the older boy blazed inside him like a forest fire.

Michael was all Calum could think about anymore; the way his smiles lit up his face, the tug of his cherry-red lips as he grinned, the laughter he buried in his pale hands, the warmth of his skin against Calum’s, the vibrant red of his hair tumbling down across his forehead… and the words they’d said:

‘ _I want us to be something._ ’

‘ _We already are. **MichaelAndCalum** , right? Through it all._’

Calum hoped it never changed and that in itself was scary because he couldn’t work out when his point of view had changed so much. He’d always tried to ignore his feelings before – hiding them in Aleisha and Ashley, and too much smoking – but they were _alive_ now, smouldering in Calum’s chest like the embers of a thousand enduring galaxies.

Calum kept thinking things like that… kept thinking about how the love he could feel was too immense to keep locked inside anymore. It felt like the ocean – rising and choking him, yes, but bringing _life_ as well – and Calum couldn’t imagine it ever fading now.

It didn’t feel like fireworks or sparks or a candle – something easily doused. It felt like rock instead… like tree roots carved deep into the earth, anchored there.

Mali had done a project on aspen trees when she was in school and Calum had helped her, found it so fascinating learning about how whole colonies of the tree could grow from a single seedling. He liked them because, even after the individual tree had died, the root system was long-lived, sometimes surviving for thousands of years and sending up new trunks when the old trees died.

Aspen trees could even survive forest fires - their roots were far deeper than the heat of the fire and new sprouts grew once the flames were gone - and that was kind of how Calum felt now… like no matter how hard he tried to burn the love away, it grew back stronger than before every damn time.

Aspen trees didn’t thrive in the shade though and Calum was always in the darkness now… except when he was with Michael.

Looking back on it now, Calum couldn’t even pinpoint the exact moment when he’d fallen in love. All he knew these days was that he’d _always_ felt like this – so comfortable and natural and warm with the older boy close beside him – but he’d never noticed before because there’d never been some jarring moment when Calum had realised (except for the night when Michael had kissed him).

It had always just felt… _right_.

Being in love with Michael was as easy – and difficult – as falling asleep.

Calum was still thinking about it when he got home after school on Monday. Michael hadn’t shown up which wasn’t exactly _rare_ but Calum had still been disappointed; after finally biting the bullet and telling Michael that he wanted them to be something, he’d been sad that the red-haired boy hadn’t even shown up. Calum had been lonely.

Ashton had been there though – still glassy-eyed and sad but _trying_ – and the dark-haired boy tried to be appreciative of that. Ashton needed all of the friends he could get right now by the looks of things. He still wasn’t talking to Luke.

Calum frowned when he let himself into the empty house, wondering where his mother was before he vaguely remembered David mentioning some work dinner that morning. Calum shuddered at the thought of it but he distracted himself with homework and a cereal bar when he dropped down onto the sofa in the living room.

Eating it was easier than it had been before – he loathed himself less than usual – and Calum figured that was probably thanks to the soup he’d had at Michael’s on Friday night (which, coincidentally, was also the last thing he’d eaten). Calum knew feeling like this wouldn’t last but being able to eat and not hate himself was an alien feeling, and Calum was determined to appreciate it.

He kept himself distracted writing an essay and filling in a maths worksheet but thoughts of Michael kept drifting in anyway; the roughness of his voice when he’d just woken up, his fingers forming chords on his guitar, the way he’d looked at Calum when they were lying in bed together like the younger boy was something precious.

God, Calum _still_ couldn’t believe they’d been together like that.

He could feel his cheeks burning but Calum swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat unfurling in his stomach as he hurriedly scribbled down the last few answers. Calum was almost squirming by the end, teeth sinking into his full bottom lip as he put his completed homework into his backpack with shaking hands.

Calum swore softly when he began to pad up the stairs in his socks because he was half-hard now just from trying _not_ to think about what had happened and, honestly, Calum was screwed.

He didn’t think he could go back from this but, as Calum sank down onto his bed and pretended it was Michael palming him instead of his own hand, Calum figured it didn’t really matter anymore.

He was in too deep now.

A soft sound escaped Calum when he got the zipper undone and he turned his head, smothering his whine in his shoulder as he finally got a hand around himself. It felt good – not as great as when it was _Michael_ but that was probably expected – and Calum’s chest was already heaving when he pulled his jumper up, keeping his eyes carefully shut so that he didn’t have to look down at himself.

Calum’s thoughts wandered and a moan tore out of him when he remembered the feeling of Michael’s finger sliding inside him, that perfect pressure making Calum’s head swim in the best possible way as the red-haired boy fucked him the best he could.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Calum gasped raggedly when his fist caught on the head of his cock, leaking pre-cum. He was still lost up in his head though, thinking about the feeling of Michael's lips trailing kisses across Calum's shoulders and the pressure as the older boy's finger hit his prostate; the lust darkening Michael's eyes and the way the older boy had jerked Calum off in time with the slow thrusts of his finger; the pleasure crashing over Calum like nothing he'd ever felt before... and the thought of Michael fingering himself.

Heat washed over Calum when he thought of that and his moan sounded loud in the silence of his room, the only other noises the wet sound of his cock sliding through his fist and his panting breaths. Calum was a mess, red flush spreading down his chest, bottom lip swollen from where he’d been worrying at it with his teeth.

Calum’s fist was moving faster as he jerked himself off now and his balls were tightening but he couldn’t tear his thoughts away from the idea that, maybe one day if he was lucky enough, Calum might get to finger Michael too.

He imagined the heat of it for a moment, how tight Michael would feel around his fingers as he clenched down and bit his moans into Calum’s neck, coming with a sob as he spurted hot over the dark-haired boy’s fingers.

Calum shuddered as the heat in his stomach reached boiling point and he was kind of whimpering now, hips jerking up as he fucked his own fist, and Calum wanted to feel pathetic for it but he was so hooked on everything Michael that it didn’t even cross his mind to be embarrassed. He was just thinking about Michael, so focused on the beautiful green-eyed boy that every hellish, ugly thought drifted right out of Calum’s head.

The dark-haired boy’s breath escaped him in a frustrated whine when he didn’t quite have enough friction to get himself over the edge and his moan was strangled when his fingers wrapped around his throat, tight enough that the muscles worked under his hand as his eyes squeezed tighter shut.

Calum’s cock seemed to swell in his fist as more pre-cum welled up in the slit and he whined when his thumb brushed over the tip. He squeezed his cock tighter as his hips started to judder and, when Calum accidentally imagined a smaller hand with a tattoo on the thumb wrapped around his throat instead of his own, the dark-haired boy came with a soft cry.

Calum lay there panting for a long time, chocolate brown eyes slowly sliding open as he wiped the mess off his stomach without looking and tugged his clothes back into place hurriedly. His curtains were still open and the sun was beginning to set now.

His parents still weren’t home. Their car wasn’t in the driveway and he couldn’t hear them downstairs. Calum’s heartbeat slowed in his chest and he inhaled heavily, pushing himself up into a sitting position on shaking arms.

He needed a shower but he didn’t have the energy to stand up yet… not until he thought of someone finding him like this, still struggling to catch his breath with Michael’s name on his lips. Calum’s fingers found the scrape on his knuckle and he swallowed reflexively as his stomach twisted itself into knots.

Calum stood under the hot spray of the shower for a long time, eyes closed against the shampoo and conditioner as he washed his hair before his trembling hand fell to his thigh. His fingertips brushed the raised skin – _**PERFECT**_ – and Calum felt… strange. Definitely not perfect. Not by a _long_ shot but… but there was definitely _something_ fluttering in Calum’s chest; like a butterfly almost… a feeling that hadn’t been there before.

Mali rang Calum that evening, his phone ringing loudly in the silence. It didn’t matter though; his parents were still out so Calum had the house to himself. He answered on the third ring, felt something calm in his chest when he looked at the caller ID and saw his older sister’s name there.

“Hey, Mali,” Calum said softly, settling down comfortably on his bed as he tucked his hand under his head. His curls had dried fluffy and soft after his shower, and he was beginning to feel sleepy now. His head was still a worrying mess of Michael.

“Squirt!” Mali said and she sounded so pleased to hear from him that it made Calum’s eyes burn with tears. “I missed you! It’s been weeks.”

“One and a half weeks,” Calum said automatically and Mali snorted at him. He could practically hear her rolling her dark eyes and it made him bite back a smile despite himself. “How’s Canberra treating you?”

“Pretty great,” Mali said, immediately animated. “Hal’s band is like… hell, they’re getting  _so_ fucking good! We’re also kind of dating now? Like… officially… and Mel and I have started going to this karaoke thing in the student union because supposedly talent spotters go there sometimes – apparently they have enough patience to wade through all the drunks; they must be saints honestly. Plus the weather’s been great and I’m trying to teach Harry to surf but he can’t do it – ten mile long legs apparently don’t really lend themselves,” she grinned. Calum felt out of breath just listening to her but it meant a lot that she sounded so happy.

“What about you though, little squirt?” she asked and she sounded calmer now. “How’s life been treating you?”

“School is long,” Calum said after a slight pause. He thought of Michael sucking bruises into his skin and Ashton’s empty face as he pined over Luke who was hurting just as badly too. Calum remembered the poorly-suppressed pain in Aleisha’s eyes after they’d kissed and the way Ashley had retreated into herself after everyone had learnt the truth. He thought about their parents and the bruises and the broken glass.

Calum’s breath rasped out of him shakily and Mali fell silent.

“Everything’s a mess,” Calum whispered as his trembling hands curled into fists in the duvet cover. “I’m happy for you and Harry though, really.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Mali said but she sounded uncertain now. “Cal, what’s wrong?”

“Do you remember what you said to me before? All those months ago when I got upset?” the dark-haired boy asked quietly and Mali made a small confused sound. Calum curled up tighter. “You said that… that it didn’t matter how many times I changed my mind… that no one was allowed to judge me for it… Do you remember?”

“Yeah,” Mali said but her voice sounded weak now. “Cal, please tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I…” In the end, Calum decided simply getting it out as quickly as possible was for the best… just like ripping off a plaster. “I’m not straight. At least, I don’t think I am. Not at all.”

“Cal –” Mali began but, now that Calum had started talking, he just couldn’t stop.

“And… I like Michael… in _that_ way… and I don’t know how it happened.” Calum swallowed hard past the tears threatening to choke him. “I don’t really know _what_ I am anymore,” he confessed in a whisper. “I just know I can’t lose him.”

Mali was silent but Calum didn’t think it was judgemental. He didn’t even think she was particularly _shocked_ which was maybe the worst part.

"You're not surprised," he realised, voice timid.

"No, I guess not," Mali said slowly but she sounded like she was smiling, albeit sadly. "I know you, Cal." She hesitated and he could almost see her biting her lip worriedly. "Is this why you've been so quiet lately? So distant?"

Calum pinched the fat of his stomach hard but he forced himself to sound calmer than he felt.

"Maybe," he whispered. "I don't know... but I don't feel so lost anymore." Calum swallowed past his fear. “Not when I’m with Michael.”

Mali sniffed like she was trying not to cry.

“That’s how I feel with Harry,” she murmured and Calum heard her sudden intake of breath, the way her words twisted like a smile had broken out across her face. “Harry told me he loved me the other day,” she said softly, her voice like sunshine now. “Have you and Mikey…?”

Mali’s words trailed away delicately and Calum’s eyes burnt with tears.

“He told me he loved me once… months ago now,” the dark-haired boy said after a long moment, keeping his voice soft so that it wouldn’t have a chance to break. “But… but I kind of freaked? And then things were really awkward for ages but… I think things are fixing now. Slowly.”

“And you love him back,” Mali said. It wasn’t a question. Calum nodded stupidly for a moment before he remembered she couldn’t see him and mumbled an affirmative. “Oh Cal,” Mali breathed and she sounded sad now. “Are you both alright?”

“I don’t know. I think so. We’re better than we were,” Calum said. He was lying on his back now, staring up unseeingly at the ceiling as he tried to imagine what Michael was doing now.

The silence was short-lived.

“Have you kissed him?” Mali asked and Calum remembered that night at the party; fingers tangling in hair and hands on hips as their lips met for the first time. His cheeks heated.

“Yeah,” he breathed, butterflies with lead wings hammering away inside his empty stomach. Mali made a small noise in the back of her throat but Calum couldn’t work out if it was negative or not.

“Have you had sex?” she asked with a calmness that Calum would probably never be able to imitate. The dark-haired boy spluttered, hand rising to cover his eyes as his cheeks flamed hotter.

“No!” he stammered before hesitating as he flushed even darker. “Not _properly_ at least.”

“ _Cal_.” Mali sounded even more worried now and Calum felt sick. This had been a bad idea. He should have just kept it a secret. “Is that a good idea? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t,” Calum said dismissively. “I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.”

Mali hesitated and Calum hated that she doubted him now.

“Do mum and dad know?” she asked after a long moment and Calum actually laughed. He could almost picture her flinching at the sharp sound in his mind’s eye. He sounded like broken glass.

“No,” Calum said firmly, his tone bitter. “Of course they don’t. I haven’t told dad anything that matters to me since I was ten or something so that’s not about to change… and mum –” Calum broke off when the lump in his throat became hard to breathe past and Mali’s voice suddenly sounded clearer, like maybe she was holding the phone closer to her face.

“Calum?” she whispered and the younger boy shivered. She never called him his first name unless she was angry or _very_ scared. “What’s wrong with mum? Did Dad…” Her voice trailed away but Calum sat bolt upright with a start, shocked that maybe she’d guessed at what was happening but had still left.

“ _Mali_ ,” he said weakly and there were tears trickling down his face now as he sat alone in the empty house. He’d never felt as lonely as he did in that moment.

“Squirt, do you need me to come home?” Mali asked faintly and Calum choked, already shaking his head even though she couldn’t see him.

“Stay in Canberra,” Calum pleaded, voice thick with tears. “Stay with Harry.”

Calum couldn’t let Mali give up her happiness. Not for him.

“I’ll be fine,” he said hopelessly, praying she couldn’t hear the tears in his voice. “I’m always fine, Mali. I’m okay.”

“Squirt,” the older girl said weakly, voice tearful. “Squirt, are you sure? I can come home. I’ll come home right now, I promise.” Dimly, Calum could hear a low male voice in the background, saturated with concern. He closed his eyes tightly against the tears.

“I promise I’m fine,” Calum insisted. “Stay there. I told you I’d tell you if I needed you here, right? And I mean it. I’m fine. I have Mikey and… my friends. I’m okay.”

“I’m proud of you,” Mali said thickly but she sounded choked up now and Calum felt awful for upsetting her. “Cal,” the older girl said suddenly, like she could tell what he was thinking… like she was still dwelling on him and Michael. “It’s okay… you know that, right? How you feel about Mikey, it… it’s okay. It’s not even like you’re being _different_ , y’know? You’re… you’re just being you… and you shouldn’t ever feel ashamed of that.”

“I know,” Calum said, wondering if he was lying or not. “Thank you, Mali. I mean it.”

“I’m so proud of you,” she repeated but she still sounded like she was crying.

“Are you still happy in Canberra?” Calum checked, voice soft as he fought to keep the desperation out of it. If she said no then…

“Yes,” Mali whispered but she sounded hollow now. “I love it here. I just worry about y-”

“You’re happy there,” Calum interrupted gently. “That’s all that matters.”

The dark-haired boy tried to end the conversation after that, making up a lie about how much homework he had. Mali hesitated before she quietly told him to have a nice evening. Calum’s smile didn’t touch his eyes.

“I love you, Mali. Goodnight,” he said quietly but he was just about to end the call when the older girl suddenly spoke up.

"Calum, wait!" Mali said. Calum frowned, holding the phone tighter to his ear.

"What is it?" Calum asked breathlessly and Mali swallowed, the sound audible over the phone.

"Is this... was this why I had a bad feeling, do you think? Is this the only thing you... you weren't telling me?"

Mali sounded soft and scared, and now it was Calum's turn to swallow past the tears.

"I'm fine, Mali," the dark-haired boy said softly, ending the call.

That wasn't quite the same as a yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!  
> I really hope you liked this - please let me know <3  
> I have big plans for the next update...


	67. Fall To Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _“This… this can’t happen again, Cal,” Michael breathed but, despite the howling of the wind and the screaming of the crows, Calum still heard him. “I’m so sorry.”_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGST ANGST ANGST  
> i was super proud of the lyrics though. and i loved writing this.  
> i hope you guys will enjoy this <3

**_So what are you waiting for?_ **

**_‘Cause someone could love you more._ **

**_I'm just a lost boy, lost boy._ **

**_I say I wanna settle down,_ **

**_Build your hopes up like a tower._ **

**_I'm giving you the run around._ **

**_I'm just a lost boy,_ **

**_Not ready to be found._ **

_\- Lost Boy, Troye Sivan_

 

‘ _I don’t really love him_.’

That was all Michael had to do. He just had to keep thinking it, remind himself of it whenever he got lost in the melted chocolate of Calum’s eyes. Michael knew he was being distant and probably unfair but he couldn’t help it; whenever he saw the hurt expression on Calum’s face when Michael decided to sit with Ashton instead, the red-haired boy tried to convince himself that he was doing Calum a favour.

If he spent less time with the younger boy, it would be easier for them both to move on… It didn’t _matter_ that Michael had promised they could be something. Not when he felt like this.

Michael couldn’t deal with the pain of it anymore and the storm raging in his chest was getting harder to breathe through.

‘ _I don’t really love him. I don’t really love him. I don’t really love him_.’

It wasn’t getting any easier to believe but Michael was determined. He was going to keep telling himself this until it was true. This had all been Michael’s fault anyway really; he’d been the one who had blurted out those three terrible words all those months ago.

This was on him if – no, _when_ – it ended badly.

Michael was pretty sure Calum had never loved him anyway. The dark-haired boy had never said it and expressing the desire for them to be ‘something’ didn’t necessarily equate to that… and besides, they’d always been MichaelAndCalum anyway. That didn’t have to change.

It took Michael the better part of a week to talk himself out of pursuing any kind of relationship with Calum and he thought maybe the hardest part was that Michael was fairly certain Calum would have said _yes_. He’d agreed to it before after all, that morning with dazzling sunlight and shattered glass protruding from the dusty ground like tiny, glittering gravestones.

‘ _We can try_.’

No. No, _no_ , _**no**_.

‘ _I don’t really love him_.’

Michael shook his head furiously, blinking back tears. Calum hadn’t meant those words – he _couldn’t_ have; Michael couldn’t let himself consider that – and the red-haired boy had finally had enough of prolonging the torture… for _both_ of them.

Calum needed to know that it was okay for him not to want this and Michael needed the closure… needed to be able to move on so that he didn’t waste the rest of his life on a ‘what if’.

Michael was sure he could do it too. He was stubborn and single-minded, and he was actually pretty sure that forcing his feelings away was possible. When Michael decided he wasn’t going to do something, that usually tended to be the end of the argument.

The only thing left to do now was tell Calum how he felt.

Michael was apprehensive to say the least. He was scared Calum was going to get upset but he was _also_ terrified that the younger boy would just accept it… wouldn’t even _care_ because it meant that little to him.

(Michael pointedly wasn’t thinking about the way Calum stared at the older boy sometimes like his heart was melting in his chest because if he let himself think about _that_ then Michael knew he wouldn’t go through with this at all.)

He didn’t know how or when he was going to tell Calum but it was consuming his thoughts. Michael didn’t want to be at home so much anymore because Graham was worrying about him; the nurse kept asking pointed questions about how Michael was feeling, and Graham's face crumpled when he saw that his nephew had washed his hands so much that they were cracked and bleeding again.

Michael went out for a lot of long walks instead, despite not particularly believing in doing exercise. The fresh air calmed him and he felt cleaner outside, and Michael sometimes walked for long enough that he was actually tired enough to fall asleep at night, instead of lying awake for hours with Calum’s face – empty, aching, screwed up with lust, exhausted, _loving_ – burnt into his mind.

‘ _I don’t really love him_.’

When Michael wandered through the park and saw the dark-haired boy sitting in the otherwise-empty playground, it felt like fate.

Calum was perched on the very top of the climbing frame, long legs dangling down between the bars as he held onto the rusting yellow-painted metal tightly with one hand. He was smoking, head tipped back towards the overcast sky as he exhaled.

Michael felt a little jolt when he saw Calum take another drag. He’d forgotten the younger boy smoked, even if Calum’s clothes _did_ smell like it sometimes.

The red-haired boy let himself into the playground, the gate creaking shut behind him. Calum looked up at the sound, warm dark eyes crinkling when he saw the older boy standing there.

The cigarette slipped through Calum’s limp fingers to smoulder on the ground but his dimples creased his cheeks as he smiled timidly at the older boy. Michael’s heart ached in his chest when he stamped the cigarette out beneath his boot.

‘ _I don’t really love him_.’

“Hey, Mikey,” Calum said, voice soft and sweet. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Calum was wearing running trainers under his worryingly loose skinny jeans and he was bundled up against the slight chill in the air, grey beanie pulled down over his curls as he huddled up in what looked like Mali’s old charcoal-coloured coat. Calum’s nails were still painted black but the varnish looked chipped now.

Michael’s heart felt too big for his chest, rising up into his throat and threatening to choke him because the words he had thought about for so long refused to come out now.

They felt like a lie burning on his tongue.

“Calum…” Michael said and his voice was embarrassingly weak. This wasn’t going the way he’d planned it at all. His hands weren’t supposed to shake. He was supposed to be _strong_.

Calum didn’t look strong now. His thin face was tight with worry and his dark eyes were _burning_ as he clung to the metal, sitting far above Michael’s head. Calum looked fragile up there and it was windy enough that Michael felt a pang of worry for him which he quickly fought down.

He wasn’t here to worry about Calum. That wasn’t going to help anything.

(But Michael had never been good at helping at all. It felt like Michael didn’t even know how to fix _anything_ anymore… so he was just tearing them apart instead. At least a broken edge was easier to deal with than a slow rip.)

“Mike, what’s wrong?” Calum asked quietly. He let himself slide down off the climbing frame, one hand still wrapped around the metal bar to slow his fall. Michael flinched when Calum hit the ground, landing on the balls of his feet. The younger boy looked like he was going to fall to pieces in the wind.

Michael couldn’t speak for a moment. The lump had risen in his throat again and his eyes were prickling, and he was shaking when he dropped down onto one of the swings nearby, arm wrapped around the chain so that he didn’t have to touch anything.

Calum sat down beside him, kicking his feet against the ground and pushing himself up into the cold grey air as the wind howled. There were crows wheeling overhead and Michael listened to their screams for a long moment before he tried to order his thoughts again.

It was hard though because everything in Michael _hurt_ right now. His mother had dumped a box of all of his old primary school stuff in the driveway that morning and it had got soaked in the rain, and Michael was aching now because Calum’s face was soft with concern as he watched him and… and Michael just wanted to pull Calum to his chest and hold him there.

He couldn’t let himself do that though because Calum deserved someone a million times better than him.

Michael’s skin felt disgusting as he sat there, like it was too tight and _itching_ … like it was about to split right open. Michael’s breath escaped him in a huff of air, like someone had driven their elbow into his stomach… like Karen’s fists were pounding into her son’s back again.

Michael closed his eyes against the tears brimming there.

He felt like he was losing it.

Maybe this _wasn’t_ about him not loving Calum – even though he didn’t. He _never_ had.

Maybe this was about protecting the younger boy instead.

“Mikey?” Calum whispered. He wasn’t swinging anymore; his legs were hanging limply below the swing instead and his cold hands were shaking as he knotted them around the chain. Michael’s emerald green eyes were still burning but he kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, taking in the damp grass and the roiling clouds overhead, counting the metal railings as he struggled to control his breathing.

There were forty two of them and Michael counted them twice, losing himself in it until the drizzle in the air made his skin feel cleaner and Calum felt hollow beside him.

“Mikey, I need you to be okay,” the dark-haired boy whispered and his voice was wet now, thick with tears like he was about to fall apart. Michael shuddered, closing his eyes against the fresh flood of tears. The fact that Calum was apparently starting to accept the way he felt only made Michael feel _more_ guilty.

This should never have been allowed to happen.

“Cal.” The red-haired boy tried again and this time his voice didn’t shake. Michael swallowed his heart back down again and forced himself to meet Calum’s gaze, shivering at the fire burning in the younger boy’s eyes. “There’s something you need to understand.”

“Michael,” Calum said weakly and there was fear in his eyes now as his little hands tightened around the metal chain. It made Michael’s stomach turn just looking at him touching it. “Mike, don’t –”

“Look,” Michael said heavily but his eyes had fallen shut because it was easier to speak when he couldn’t see. “I’m not the person you need, Cal. You… you deserve someone who can **love** you.”

Michael didn’t realise how _wrong_ those words sounded until his eyes fluttered open in shock. The light in Calum’s face had gone out like a snuffed candle and Michael felt something go cold inside him because he hadn’t even seen the earth-shattering moment when Calum had given up.

Michael had been too cowardly.

“That came out wrong,” the red-haired boy amended hurriedly but Calum’s hands had fallen from the metal chain now and his shoulders were slumped like he was carrying a great weight. His dark eyes were glassy… burnt out almost. “I… I meant you need someone who can love you in the _right_ way… the way you deserve.”

Calum laughed at that, a tiny huff of sound that made Michael flinch. Calum was staring at Michael with undisguised pain, looking a lot like his oldest best friend had just stabbed him in the chest. Michael’s guilt reared its ugly head inside him.

“I – shit, Cal, don’t look at me like that,” Michael pleaded, fingers rising to tangle in his hair, even as his skin crawled when he tore a few strands free. Michael’s heart was racing in his chest but Calum’s face looked like it was collapsing in on itself now and Michael was frightened he wouldn’t be able to put the pieces back together on his own.

He racked his brains, desperate for something he could say that might make this even remotely okay again because Calum looked _lost_ now. Fuck, Michael didn’t know what he’d been _thinking_!

“Why don’t you go with that girl you’re always texting?” the older boy suggested breathlessly, desperation colouring his tone. “Leish or whatever her name is! What about her?”

Calum was gazing at Michael with quiet dismay, the fire in his eyes long-since gone dark. He shivered like his blood had run cold and Michael’s alarm seized him abruptly as he actually managed to use his brain for once.

“No,” Michael breathed and he knew he’d guessed right when he saw the pain rippling across Calum’s empty face. “ _Shit_ , Calum, no. Not… not _Aleisha_.” Calum’s face closed off and Michael felt like he was looking at a stranger now.

“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about,” the younger boy retorted but his voice was so strained that he sounded like he was about to snap. Abruptly, Calum’s dark eyes swam with tears. “Mike, I thought we were _something_.”

‘ _I don’t really love him_.’

“We are,” Michael said but his tone was brittle now and he was shaking so badly that he almost fell when he pushed himself up from the swing. Calum was still hanging there, swaying gently in the breeze like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Michael felt sick with himself.

“Just _friends_ , right?” Calum sneered but there were tears rolling down his hollow cheeks as he buried his head in his hands.

“We _are_ ,” Michael said hopelessly. “We’re friends… but… but we can’t be anything more. This… this is toxic. For _both_ of us.” Michael swallowed past his own tears, fighting for a composure he didn’t feel. He never realised saying this would be so _hard_.

“This… this can’t happen again, Cal,” Michael breathed but, despite the howling of the wind and the screaming of the crows, Calum still heard him. “I’m so sorry.”

Calum looked up at him silently, his jaw slack and his eyes burning bright with tears like someone had punched him across the jaw. He looked dazed as his fingers twisted in his lap, his bottom lip raw from where he’d been biting it, his dark curls messy where they were escaping from under his hat.

“Just go,” Calum choked out.

Michael hurried away like the coward he was, head ducked down against the wind as he desperately tried to convince himself that his eyes were burning because of the cold air and _not_ because his shoulders were heaving with sobs.

When Michael reached the exit to the park and looked back over his shoulder towards the deserted playground, Calum was nowhere to be seen but the swing he’d been sitting on was still swaying gently in the wind.

Michael went home and tried not to think but it proved too difficult and, after hours of lying on his bed with his thoughts screaming in his head, Michael gave up.

He went to a club that night, lingering by the bar until he saw a boy watching him with sparkling brown eyes and a shock of dyed black hair. He smirked at Michael and the red-haired boy pushed himself through the crowd towards him.

“You,” Michael said and it burnt like a lie on his tongue when the boy reached for him. “I want you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you!!!  
> please let me know what you thought :)


	68. Piano Wire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _If Michael admitted – even to himself – that the softness in Calum’s beautiful eyes actually meant everything in the_ world _to him then he was quite certain he was going to die from the pain of it. That was why Michael couldn’t let himself think like that anymore. It hurt and it was pointless; just more salt rubbed into the wound._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm sorry about the wait but I really hope you'll enjoy this! It's angsty as fuck but I found it vaguely cathartic to write.  
> Also I've wanted to use these lyrics for ages and my friend Deja got excited about them so hopefully you guys will like them :')  
> Enjoy!

**_If you just take off your mask,_ **

**_You find out everything's gone wrong._ **

_\- Robbers, The 1975_

 

Michael hadn’t been to school in over a week now but that had to stop when the school called Graham. The nurse sat Michael down at the kitchen table and quietly asked him what Michael had been doing, and the worst bit was that Graham didn’t even sound _angry_. He just looked disappointed instead.

“I’ve just been walking round town a lot… gaming…” Michael shrugged jerkily, staring down into his lap as he tried to force the tears in his eyes to recede. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m nearly done with school anyway. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

“I don’t think you’ve considered the consequences, Mike,” Graham said heavily, propping his chin up with his hand as he watched his nephew through tired, dull green eyes. It was shadowy at the table, the curtains pulled shut to block out the early morning light outside. Michael wilted like a dying flower. “What if the school decide you’re not being taken care of here properly because I didn’t make you go to school? What if you end up getting sent to live back with your parents again?”

Michael shuddered despite himself, eyes widening as he remembered the pain exploding in his face as his lip burst against the counter… as his mother’s nails raked down his back like claws.

Graham looked guilty for even mentioning it.

“I’m sorry for bringing that up,” the older man said heavily, expression downcast. “But you need to consider these options, Mike. I don’t want to lose you… but you have to play ball, okay? You have to follow the rules and actually behave because… you won’t be able to stay here if you don’t. It doesn't matter _how_ badly I want to keep you safe, okay? You have to keep yourself safe too. You've got to use your head, mate.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael croaked but he was shaking when he pushed himself up from the table. Graham twitched like he wanted to pull his nephew into a hug but Michael wiped his eyes hard with his sleeve, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. His breakfast sat unfinished on the table in front of him as he backed away slowly.

“Guess I better get ready then,” Michael mumbled, shaking hands curling into fists. “I’m sorry if I got you into trouble.”

“Mike, you didn’t –”

Michael ran upstairs before his uncle had finished speaking, struggling into his clothes so viciously that he was pretty sure he heard something rip. He caught one of his nails on the lining of his jumper and he ended up cutting the whole lot so short that it hurt to touch anything. Michael didn’t care though. He was so exhausted – barely sleeping at the moment – and the permanent bags under his eyes looked like bruises. It was bad enough in the darkness of his bedroom but they looked even worse when Michael caught a glimpse of himself in the window of a parked car as he trudged to school.

He looked a lot like he’d been punched in the face and the tired aching feeling in his chest only accentuated it. School was the last thing on his mind now. Didn’t they know he had more important things to worry about? Ashton was falling apart before his eyes and Calum…

Damnit. Michael didn’t even know where to _start_ with Calum.

His green eyes were burning when he finally got to school – and walking alone fucking _sucked_ but none of them went together anymore; too much had changed – but the fire in his gaze must have made Michael look vaguely interesting because a girl getting out of her car gave him the sort of look Michael usually only attracted from people who wanted to hook up with him in clubs.

Michael forced a tiny smirk as he walked past her, watched the blush heat her cheeks as he tried not to hate himself too much. The attention got him thinking though, reminded him of the little black anchor he’d had inked onto his thumb.

Back when he’d first got the tattoo, Michael had been doing his utmost to convince himself that he didn’t love the dark-haired boy because Calum loved _girls_. Nowadays, Michael wasn’t so sure but it still didn’t change anything. The warmth Michael sometimes saw glowing in Calum’s soft eyes meant _nothing_ when Michael had pushed Calum away in prickly self-defence.

If Michael admitted – even to himself – that the softness in Calum’s beautiful eyes actually meant everything in the _world_ to him then he was quite certain he was going to die from the pain of it. That was why Michael couldn’t let himself think like that anymore. It hurt and it was pointless; just more salt rubbed into the wound.

Michael refused to love Calum in spite of everything that had happened between them… every moment they’d shared together.

In this new headspace, Michael felt himself retreating, embracing a coldness that didn’t come naturally to him as he buried his worries and fears in other people’s mouths.

Michael was a lot ruder at school in the weeks that followed. He couldn’t be bothered with the lessons anymore – he’d already accepted that he was most likely never going to amount to anything anyway so what was the point in trying? – but his cocky new attitude was earning him a lot of attention… just like the girl who’d watched him admiringly in the carpark when Graham had made him go back to school again.

That was why Michael wasn’t particularly surprised when one of the students from the year above approached him as the lunch bell rang, dark curls falling artfully across his forehead, blue eyes bright and glittering in his pale face.

The guy was hot – Michael could admit that much, even as hurt as he felt now – and that was why Michael went with him to an abandoned corridor in the older part of the school… why he slotted their hips together as the older boy licked hot into his mouth and Michael’s knees weakened beneath him.

He wasn’t against making out with people at school. He’d done it before after all and barely anyone ever called him out on it; maybe they were too scared Michael was going to punch them in the face if they did although that realisation made him feel like he was no better than his mother. Michael fought not to think about that though, fought to ignore the faint bruise on his jaw from where someone braver had shoved him face-first into the lockers that morning for being so outrageously _gay_.

Michael was doing his best to feel triumphant that nobody could control him anymore.

The guy’s hands were tangling in the younger boy's hair now, pulling just the way Michael liked so that he groaned against the older boy’s mouth, cherry-red lips falling open as he pressed closer. This guy was a better kisser than some of the people Michael had had the misfortune of making out with before; at least he hadn’t been groped or pinned back against the wall so hard that his heart raced anxiously in his chest yet.

Michael didn’t like those times so much. Even _Charlie_ hadn’t done that to him. It was the people at clubs who were the worst for it, when their blood was buzzing with alcohol and their inhibitions fell away from them like water. It scared Michael a lot.

The guy drew back when he felt Michael still against him, hands falling down to rest on the younger boy’s shoulders as he tilted his head to the side, black curls falling beautifully. They were both struggling to catch their breath.

“You alright?” the guy asked and Michael licked his lips, forced a smile onto his flushed face as he stretched up to kiss the guy’s jaw, hands rubbing comforting circles into his back through the denim jacket he was wearing over his shirt.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Michael promised as his lips met the older boy’s again. He let out a content sigh, lost himself in the warmth and the minty taste of the guy’s tongue before he heard footsteps approaching. Michael didn’t break away though, kept right on kissing until he heard whoever it was behind him making a small broken sound.

Michael looked up just in time to see Calum frozen there – pale-faced and fucking _agonised_ – before he ran away, leaving a grim-looking Ashton behind. The older boy folded his arms tightly over his chest and Michael’s cheeks flamed as his shock faded. Ashton was staring at Michael in disbelief which seemed wholly unfair right now.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Mike,” Ashton snapped and –

Okay, what the actual _fuck_?!

Michael’s cheeks heated and he glared at the curly-haired boy… at his _best friend_ because… damnit, why did no one ever try to work out how _Michael_ felt? Why was it always **Calum**?

(Because Calum was _everything_. He always _would_ be.)

“Um… I’m gonna go,” the guy behind Michael muttered awkwardly, swollen lips brushing the red-haired boy’s shoulder as he gave Michael’s hip a light squeeze. “Call me if you want.” He patted Michael's bicep as he pushed away from the wall and Michael watched him go for a moment, taking in the black curls and his pale skin as he loped off.

Michael wasn’t going to call him unless he needed another distraction, a temporary fix… no matter _how_ nice the guy might be. Michael had made that apparent from the get-go though so it didn’t feel like he was using him. Not when it was mutual.

“You had your damn tongue down a girl’s throat only yesterday, Mike! Who the hell was that?” Ashton demanded but there was undisguised worry in his usually-empty eyes now and they were burning into Michael’s face.

“Don’t know,” Michael mumbled, shrugging as his cheeks heated. He folded his arms too, mirroring Ashton’s defensive stance perfectly as he struggled to calm his breathing. Ashton didn’t get to tell him what to do. It wasn’t fair.

“You dick,” Ashton breathed but he sounded more stunned than angry. It felt like that morning when Graham had been disappointed in him. It made Michael want to curl up into a ball and cry. “You’re only doing this to get back at Calum, aren’t you?”

“I’m not –” Michael faltered, pulled up short when he thought suddenly of Charlie Barker; first when Calum had punched the boy in the face for his best friend and then the bruises Michael had pressed into Charlie’s thighs when he was getting him off and… and maybe Ashton had a point.

Maybe Michael’s subconscious was trying to sabotage everything now.

Maybe he couldn't deny it anymore.

(‘ _Girls. I like **girls**._ ’)

Michael felt floored as he leant back heavily against the wall, his arms falling to hang limply by his sides.

“You’re an idiot, Mike. A fucking idiot,” Ashton said quietly but every single word felt like it was scraping Michael’s heart with sandpaper… felt like wrapping piano wire tightly around his throat and _squeezing_. Ashton was looking at Michael with pity now and the red-haired boy couldn’t breathe past the lump rising in his throat, cutting off his oxygen. “He _loves_ you!”

It took Michael a moment to realise that he meant Calum. It only took Michael a _second_ for his legs to fold beneath him as he slumped down heavily onto the floor. Michael exhaled shakily like Ashton had punched him in the stomach, dropping his overheated face into his hands as he shuddered. Ashton knelt down hesitantly nearby but Michael couldn’t let himself look at him. Not when he felt so vulnerable and exposed… so fucking _raw_.

Not when his heart was flayed open for everyone to see.

All Michael could picture in his mind’s eye was the slowly-dawning terror on Calum’s face as Michael said: “I love you. _Fuck_ , Cal, I… I _**love**_ you”… the way Calum had lurched away from him brokenly, lips bruised from kissing, trembling fingers tangling in his own dark curls and _tearing_ … like he needed to clear his head with pain.

‘ _I don’t wanna be your friend. I wanna kiss your neck._ ’

Michael thought about saying the words again, remembered the way they tasted in his mouth and how _right_ it had felt in the moments before he’d lost everything… and it didn’t matter that Michael hadn’t meant those words – he didn’t mean them; he _couldn’t_ have – because, even after all this time, it still burnt just the same.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Ash?” Michael asked weakly, voice soft as he gazed at Ashton with agonised eyes. The older boy swallowed, raking a hand through his curls nervously… touching without looking disgusted. Michael felt a stab of longing for a moment. He’d never be able to do that.

“Calum told you that you two could try, right?” Ashton said hesitantly and Michael’s heart plummeted in his chest because… god, if Calum had told Ashton that – that most private of conversations – then who _else_ knew? Who else was laughing behind Michael’s back because he’d torn everything apart and lost the one person he cared about more than anything?

‘ _I don’t love him. I **don’t** … and he doesn’t love me. Not really._’

“– and then there was the night where he kissed you –” Ashton continued hesitantly but Michael cut him off, biting his bottom lip hard.

“– and he told me he liked girls,” Michael said caustically. It didn’t matter how much poison he tried to inject into his voice though; without his permission, he could feel Ashton’s words sinking into his _veins_ … into the very bones of him.

“He fucking _kissed_ you, Mike! And… and don’t you remember what he told me after?” Ashton pressed, his tone bitter and sharp now, like he was swallowing broken glass. Michael was too stunned to speak and Ashton’s shoulders slumped like he was carrying a great weight. “He said he didn’t want to like you, Mike, and I think we can both safely assume that he really _does_ like you.”

Michael felt like the ground had been ripped out from beneath his feet… like the surface of the lake he’d been crawling across had just cracked open and sent him plunging into water so icily cold that it felt like knives piercing his lungs.

Michael dropped his head into his hands again, knotting his fingers into his red, _red_ hair as he tried to force himself not to react with a shudder. He remembered that phone call when Calum had rang him months ago, drunk out of his mind and crying; remembered that Calum had started to say “Mikey, I love –” but… but maybe it didn’t mean anything. It _couldn’t_ have done.

Not with Calum. Not about Michael.

God, Michael couldn’t _take_ it if Calum felt something more for him… not after the things Michael had said to him in the park… not after he’d forced Calum away when all he ever _really_ wanted to do was hold him closer.

' _I'm not the person you need, Cal. You... you deserve someone who can **love** you._'

Michael was already going to pieces trying to deny his own feelings since they were clearly never going to be able to have this. It didn’t matter how they _felt_ … **if** they felt…

Almost like he could tell Michael was slowly fighting for control, Ashton spoke just once more but it hit Michael like a fucking _train_.

“I think maybe it’s a lot more than _like_ these days, Mike.” Ashton spoke in a whisper but it sounded like he was shouting and, suddenly, Michael had had enough.

He dragged himself to his feet, fingers sliding over the dirty floor as bile rose in his throat and his heart shuddered inside him. Michael flew from the corridor. His breathing was ragged and he was about five seconds away from losing it.

He could feel the panic clawing inside him as he ran, blistering his pale skin like acid as he struggled to count the doors of the classrooms he was running past; tried to ignore the shocked or jeering faces of the other students who thought Michael tearing himself apart in front of them was some sort of spectator sport.

Michael hit the exit doors hard, arms outstretched in front of him as his itching hands slammed against the metal, shoving them open. The bright sunlight outside blinded him momentarily but Michael didn’t let himself stop running. He fell down the bottom step, twisted his ankle as he staggered into the car park but it didn’t matter because there was fresh air in his lungs now and the minty taste of the guy’s mouth had faded from his tongue and –

And all that was left in his head was that broken little sound Calum had made when he'd seen them and Ashton’s parting words to Michael: “ _I think maybe it’s a lot more than **like** now, Mike_.”

Because maybe it was _love_ instead. Fucking **love**.

Michael ran through the quiet streets with tears burning his cheeks because he couldn’t take it anymore. He knew he’d be disappointing Graham by skipping school but Michael couldn’t let himself stay there when he could feel his lungs shredding themselves messily in his chest as his breath caught painfully.

Michael’s hands were shaking when he dragged his mobile phone out of his pocket but Calum’s phone was off when Michael dialled it with trembling fingers and it went straight through to voicemail. The red-haired boy just started talking, rambling and fighting not to cry as he tried to convince himself – tried to convince _both_ of them – that nothing was happening between them.

Michael kind of hoped Calum wouldn’t listen to it but he was starting to freak out now as he remembered everything he’d said because… what if it hadn’t been enough? What if he’d said too _much_ instead?

Michael dialled Calum’s number again, left more messages as he tried to fix things. It wasn’t working though. Every single time the message ended, the air became a little harder to breathe as his skin crawled. Michael tried to avoid the cracks in the pavement. He crossed the road without looking.

He felt his panic _consume_ him until all that was left was his anxiety, his agony and the fucking _pain_ … a tiny, dying fire in Michael’s empty ribcage.

The red-haired boy felt dead when he let himself into Graham’s house, his fingers already feeling so dirty but he still sobbed at having to touch the key. He left his shoes on, walked mud from _somewhere_ all over the floor as he rushed into the kitchen, turning the hot tap on full blast.

Michael didn’t know why his boots were so muddy. He couldn’t even remember what way home he’d gone. His thoughts were too twisted in his aching head.

Michael’s hands twitched towards the bleach but he fought not to, saw Graham’s anxious face swimming before his eyes as he reached for the nail brush instead, hand jerking at the feel of it before he brought it closer, beneath the hot stream of water. Michael scraped the brush over his skin until his fingertips were bleeding, until the burning pain of that was enough to distract him from the turmoil inside him… from the fucking _tempest_ storming violently in his broken heart.

Michael saw his blood dissipating in the water, spreading out like fallen red flower petals, and only then was he calm enough to turn the tap off with his sleeve, smearing blood _there_ too.

Michael felt empty when he stumbled into the living room, catching his hip on the edge of the table in the semi-darkness and probably bruising the delicate skin as he collapsed down onto the sofa, curling up on his side like he used to do when he was only little, cheek rubbing against the soft material.

Graham barely opened the curtains in here anymore; it looked like the older man was _mourning_ someone almost and, by the time Michael wondered if it was **him** , he’d already passed out from exhaustion.

Michael heard his uncle come home a few hours later but he stayed lying there, boots probably getting mud all over the sofa, swollen tear-wet eyes stubbornly shut as his bloodied hands lay on the cushion in front of him.

He heard his uncle’s quiet intake of breath when he found him, felt the older man’s hand passing in front of his nephew’s mouth so that he could feel the red-haired boy breathing… tried not to imagine the older man’s relief when he felt Michael's gentle exhales.

Michael wanted to be sad that Graham maybe thought he was depressed enough to do something like that but he still didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t think he could deal with the sympathy he would no doubt see in them because looking up at him would make this _real_ and Michael had had enough of reality today.

Graham undid Michael’s shoelaces carefully, gently easing the muddy boots off and setting them down on the floor nearby. Michael curled up into a tighter ball, knees drawn up to his chest protectively although he needn’t have bothered. Graham didn’t seem worried about the mess. He only cared about his nephew.

Michael’s bottom lip was wobbling now and he bit down on it hard, slowly became aware of the stinging pain in his fingers when he accidentally moved his hand. He hated the little whimper that tore out of him, the choked sound that escaped Graham when he leant closer and saw the mess Michael had made of his fingertips.

"Oh, mate," the nurse whispered, voice thick like his _heart_ was breaking.

Graham disappeared for a few minutes and Michael barely had time to wonder if maybe the nurse had _finally_ had enough of him when the older man returned. He sat down hesitantly nearby – Michael felt the sofa dip under his weight – and then there was the sound of a tub being unscrewed and Michael felt the coolness of some sort of cream being applied gently to his torn skin. It was soothing but Michael still hated it, couldn’t stand the feeling of something cloying sticking to his fingers when his hands already felt so sickeningly unclean... when _all_ of him did.

Graham’s lips brushed Michael’s forehead chastely and the red-haired boy choked on a sob in the darkness.

“Whatever happened today,” Graham said slowly, rubbing his thumb comfortingly over Michael’s pale wrist. “We’ll get through this, mate.” Graham rose, squeezing his nephew’s shoulder gently before he carded his fingers through the teenager’s messy hair. “You’ll be alright,” Graham whispered.

Michael wasn’t even thinking about himself anymore though, and the hell he could feel inside only faded when he thought of sparkling chocolate brown eyes and dimples creasing cheeks as soft giggles filled the air… giggles Michael hadn’t heard in so many months now.

His fingers throbbed painfully and the red-haired boy kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut against the sudden onslaught of fresh tears.

All he could think of was Calum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought by leaving comments and kudos :)
> 
> Also... I feel like maybe alarm bells should be ringing now... because if you guys read Maelstrom, you know what's coming next...


	69. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _This was so,_ so _much worse than when Ashley had found out. This was **dangerous** because it was _ Ashton _and he knew Calum well enough that he could tear the younger boy apart with a single word._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to update this fic – I just haven’t been in the right mood and I didn’t want to force writing this. I want it to feel natural and _right_ because this fic means so much to me.  
>  I really hope you guys will enjoy it.

**_You keep my old scarf from that very first week,_ **

**_'Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me._ **

**_You can't get rid of it 'cause you remember it all too well, yeah._ **

_\- All Too Well, Taylor Swift_

 

Calum’s jealousy was sticky and hot in his empty stomach, churning there and making him feel sick as he tried to force the memory of Michael kissing someone else out of his head.

Calum was sure he had no right to be jealous. He’d kissed Aleisha himself after all, even if he _had_ realised that he only ever felt that painful love in his chest when he was with Michael. It hurt in the worst possible way, like salt rubbed into the wound, and the bitter sting of it stole Calum’s breath away as his heart ached in his chest.

The dark-haired boy was sitting against his bedroom wall now, legs folded beneath him as he cradled an old sweatshirt in his arms, fingers tight around the soft material like he was a little kid with a comfort blanket. The sweatshirt had belonged to Michael once but the older boy had given it to Calum after a sleepover they’d had a few years ago when the younger boy had got cold.

Calum felt a tear roll down his cheek as he held it tighter, crushing it to his chest like maybe it would keep him from crumbling to pieces.

He was so close to giving up.

Calum had never felt this lost before.

His parents were out tonight and he hadn’t spoken to Mali on the phone in almost two weeks now, and the silence was eating away at Calum like acid. His dark eyes settled on his bass guitar sitting abandoned in the corner of the room and, almost without meaning to, Calum let the crumpled sweatshirt fall to the floor as he crawled towards the instrument.

It felt good in his hands, a comforting weight as he lifted it into his lap and tried not to knock any of his fresher cuts when he reached to arrange his fingers on the frets. He thought of Michael again as he tried a few chords, pictured the red-haired boy kissing that stranger in the hallways today first… and then he thought of Michael kissing _him_ instead; remembered the taste of his mouth and the shape of his lips, and the tears in his eyes that Calum longed to kiss away as his heart ached.

The random chords Calum was playing morphed into something more familiar and Calum’s own eyes prickled with tears as he hung his head, singing the lyrics softly into the empty house.

“ _You say ‘I love you, boy’ but I know you lie._ ” Calum remembered that night at the party, remembered the dazed look on Michael’s face as he whispered those words and Calum’s heart exploded in his chest... remembered Michael practically denying those words that cold day in the park. “ _I trust you all the same and I don’t know why._ ”

The notes sounded soft and sad as they lingered in the silence, and Calum’s voice was thick with unshed tears as his stomach twisted with pain. All he could see in his head was _Michael_ , with his pale face and his laughing green eyes and the gentle curving of his cherry-red lips as he smiled at Calum, just like he used to back before everything was broken.

“ _‘Cause when my back is turned my bruises shine. Our broken fairy-tale, so hard to hide._ ”

His dark curls were falling down across his forehead and he could feel one of the cuts on his arm welling blood because it was sticking his jumper to his skin. Calum’s breath tore out of him in a low sob but he kept his fingers moving, distracted himself with the bite of the steel strings instead as he glanced at the chipped black varnish on his fingernails, fighting tears.

He thought about what Michael had said that day in the car, and how accepting and _kind_ he’d been the next morning as he cuddled Calum close and made him forget.

“ _I still believe it’s you and me ‘til the end of time._ ”

Calum closed his eyes and pictured the empty park; the cold metal beneath his hands as he sat on the climbing frame, the creak of the swing as Michael slumped there like a broken puppet, the words he’d said that had torn all hope from Calum’s body like a butterfly destroyed in a hurricane.

“ _When we collide, we come together. If we don’t, we’ll always be apart._ ”

Calum’s teary eyes settled on the sweatshirt lying curled nearby. It had smelt like Michael once; like chocolate and mint and coffee and talcum powder… like _safety_ … like **love**.

Calum let his head fall back against the wall, squaring his jaw as he fought against his tears. His eyes were gleaming with them in the light of his bedroom but they were tired too, mirroring his exhaustion after what felt like one of the most draining days he’d ever had.

“ _I’ll take a bruise; I know you’re worth it._ ” Calum’s voice was starting to shake now and the lump in his throat was hard to breathe past. He wanted Michael to appear and fold Calum up into his arms, kissing him and whispering that everything was fine. Calum needed Michael to make him okay again… but he couldn’t. He _wouldn’t_. Never again.

“ _When you hit me, hit me hard._ ”

The doorbell rang downstairs and Calum’s breath caught painfully in his throat. He threw his guitar unceremoniously onto his bed, lurching to his feet and groaning when the ever-present dizziness made him feel sick. He was already halfway down the stairs by that point though, praying that maybe Michael really _was_ standing outside with his windblown red hair and an apology on his lips.

With a jolt, Calum realised that that was what he wanted more than anything else in the world; not for his dad to leave his mum alone; not for Mali to come back; not for Aleisha and Ashley to be okay; not for Ashton and Luke to reconcile…

For Michael to love him again.

Calum thought maybe he should feel selfish but that didn’t change the fact that he _didn’t_. It felt like the cruellest kind of karma when Calum unlocked the door so desperately that he scraped the skin off his fingertip, only to find Ashton standing there unannounced instead.

The older boy's honey-coloured curls were tangled and he looked properly messed up, his face gaunt and _hurting_ in the way it only ever did when he was trying hard not to think about Luke which seemed to be his equivalent for the end of the world.

“Ash,” Calum greeted him weakly. The dark-haired boy sucked his scratched fingertip, tasted the faintest hint of blood on his tongue and felt his stomach clench sickeningly as his arms throbbed beneath his jumper. They were cut to shreds, line after horrible line until Calum was faint with how sore he felt… with how much none of it was _helping_ him anymore.

Ashton looked small hunched over on the doorstep, arms hanging limply by his sides, dressed in nothing but a thin sweatshirt. Calum was freezing today though, just like always, and he wondered how Ashton _wasn’t_.

The smaller boy looked like he needed a hug but Calum wasn’t sure if he was allowed anymore because things had been so awkward and strained between them for so long. Ashton looked lost too.

“This is so stupid,” Calum muttered, reaching out hesitantly and pulling Ashton close. Calum was proud of himself for not flinching when the curly-haired boy’s trembling hand settled hesitantly on his ribs and Calum swallowed past his sickness, past the pain and desperation as he tried to ignore how fat he felt in the face of Ashton’s pain.

Calum refused to meet the older boy’s eyes when the hug ended. He still couldn’t stop thinking about Michael – about what had happened today and how much it had _hurt_ – and Calum tried hard to avoid Ashton’s gaze because he was sure the older boy would realise how badly his best friend was hurting if he looked at him for too long.

Ashton made a small sound of surprise when he saw that Calum was actually shivering and the dark-haired boy folded his sore arms defensively, glancing very deliberately towards the open front door until Ashton pushed it shut with a faint frown on his face.

“It’s October, Cal,” Ashton said softly, his voice concerned. “It… it really isn’t that cold at the moment.”

Ashton’s worried expression was almost _knowing_ and Calum felt his pulse quicken with fear because… god, what if Ashton _knew_? What if he’d guessed and he was going to say something to someone? What if they realised just how devastatingly _broken_ Calum had become?

The younger boy was trembling as he led Ashton into the living room but it wasn’t with the cold this time; it was with fear and paranoia instead. Ashton was silent behind him and Calum _hated_ how weird it felt to sit down in the living room like he actually belonged in the house. Calum never spent any time in this room now; this was David’s territory.

“I kind of wanted to talk actually,” Ashton said suddenly and Calum’s unease threatened to overwhelm him as he took a shaky step back, moving without meaning to.

“I was afraid you were going to say that.” Calum cursed himself the moment the words were out of his mouth because that was a pretty convincing way of informing Ashton that he was actually a nervous wreck right now. “So what did you wanna talk about, bud?” Calum forced himself to appear calm but the nickname tasted strange in his mouth because he hadn’t called Ashton that since that night when the smaller boy had had a panic attack, he was fairly certain.

It felt like a million years ago now but, even back then, Calum had still felt wrong.

Maybe he hadn’t been okay for a very long time but he was only realising it right now.

Maybe he’d _always_ had the potential to end up like this and that realisation hurt most because he thought it might be true.

“Everything,” Ashton said softly and it took Calum a moment to remember that he’d asked him a question in the first place. Calum forced a smile onto his face, chocolate brown eyes prickling.

“We’re going to be here for a while then,” Calum choked out, forcing a smile in the vain hope that it might make Ashton look a little less anxious. It didn’t seem to be working though and Calum wrapped his arms around himself protectively, felt the burn as another of the cuts opened up. Calum struggled to keep the pain from colouring his expression but Ashton’s worry was clear on his tanned face.

“Are you okay after… y’know… earlier?” the older boy asked weakly. Calum flinched as he remembered Michael tilting his head back and parting his lips against the older boy’s, pale fingers tangling with the boy’s dark hair as Michael pressed closer to him, like he was hungry for it.

‘ _You deserve someone who can **love** you._ ’

Calum sank down heavily onto one of the sofas, bowing his head although he saw Ashton sitting hesitantly nearby too. Calum kept his gaze fixed on the immaculate coffee table in front of him that his mum had tidied, forcing thoughts of Michael out of his head as he started to worry about Joy again.

He hoped she was okay this evening. David had been in a _foul_ mood earlier and there were a ring of fingerprint-shaped bruises around Joy’s arm.

The coffee table was so _tidy_ in an effort to keep her husband happy and the neatness made Calum think of Michael inexplicably, made him remember the older boy’s clean but deliberately disordered bedroom… reminded him of how Michael kissed just like that too, small and neat at first before he pushed forwards, lips parting so hot, like he was trying to set the dark-haired boy on fire.

Calum wondered if Michael kissed _other_ people like that too. The younger boy wasn’t stupid – he knew Michael had been doing it for a while, just like Calum with Aleisha – and he couldn’t resent Michael for that, even if it _did_ hurt so badly that Calum felt like he was being crushed.

He’d never needed Michael to hold him more than he did right now.

“I’m fine,” Calum said, a moment too late. Ashton raised an eyebrow and Calum laughed bitterly, feeling a pang when it made the older boy cringe. “Michael was looking for me earlier,” the dark-haired boy added suddenly. “After… well, you know…” Calum struggled to keep the emotions off his face, tried to remember the lyrics he’d been singing earlier instead of the pain he could feel sinking into his very bones. “I hid from him though…” Calum laughed again, almost hysterical now, like he was about to crack. “And… and he left me ten missed calls… and voicemails…" A shadow passed over Calum's face. "I haven’t listened to the voicemails.”

The pity on Ashton’s face when he looked at Calum made the dark-haired boy want to shove his fingers down his throat right then, sickened him so much that Calum wanted to rake his nails across his skin or carve curse words into the walls with his tiny little razor blade or – or –

“Where are your family?” Ashton asked and that mundane question brought Calum back jarringly. The older boy looked torn, like he wished he could say more... only the tension was still there between them even now, crackling like electricity… like forked lightning rending the stormy sky apart in the moments before the raindrops fell.

Apparently _neither_ of them felt like they had the right to comfort each other anymore.

Calum wondered how they could have fallen so far without realising it.

Maybe they were still falling _now_.

It certainly felt like it sometimes.

“Mum and dad are out tonight which is probably for the best,” Calum said, even if he _didn’t_ really believe the words. He supposed they were true though; his mum might be struggling right now but David couldn’t hurt her when they were out and this meant that Calum hadn’t had to hide his anguish from his parents when he’d stumbled home from school in pained shock. “And… Mali’s run off again.”

It felt strange to say those words out loud… _redundant_ almost. Mali had been gone for so long now after all… for months and months, and she wasn’t ever coming back. Calum just hadn’t told anyone yet.

It felt strange to tell the truth about it now.

Ashton took Calum’s shoulder comfortingly but he looked like he was freaking out a little bit as he wiped his eyes hard with his sleeve. Calum watched him with wide worried eyes, fighting to keep it together as the blood drying on his arm stuck his sleeve to the skin. He couldn’t understand why Ashton looked so floored by that knowledge but maybe it was because the older boy was realising just how severed they’d been from each other.

Maybe it cut _him_ too.

“Cal, you should have said something,” Ashton said brokenly and Calum’s eyes stung with fresh tears.

“But no one asked.”

Ashton made a sound like Calum had kicked him in the stomach, like he’d driven his fist into the older boy’s gut… into his _face_ like he’d done to Charlie after the ex-football player had called Michael such awful things… but Michael had been _with_ Charlie now… and nothing was the same as it had been then.

“I’m so, _so_ sorry, Calum.” Ashton still looked wrecked and it was hard to drag his gaze over to the older boy’s face. Calum couldn’t understand why Ashton was staring at him with so much _guilt_. “I keep telling you that things are going to be okay again and then I only make them worse.”

Nothing the older boy was saying made any sense and Calum felt so lost that Ashton pulled him into a hug. Calum went limp for a moment, head falling into the warm curve of the older boy’s neck as Ashton cuddled him, hand sliding back down Calum’s ribs again. The dark-haired boy stiffened, pulling away to stare at Ashton with something that was close to _anguish_ now because… how could Ashton possibly think that Calum’s agony was _his_ fault?

Looking up at Ashton in that moment, Calum realised with a pang that it felt like they barely knew each other anymore. Calum could feel his heart crumbling in his chest as he processed this because, despite everything that had happened, Calum still loved Ashton. He wished they were as good together as they had been back when they were young.

“You need to stop blaming _yourself_ for everything,” Calum said, drawing Ashton into a weak hug although he was careful not to let any of his weight settle on him. Calum’s dark eyes opened wide in shock when Ashton pulled him into his lap and Calum’s cheeks flamed as his breath caught in his throat. His shame was _choking_ him now. “Please let me go,” he whispered, eyes squeezed tightly shut now so that he didn’t have to see the pain on Ashton’s face anymore. “I’m too heavy.”

“I absolutely _promise_ you that you’re not,” Ashton said pleadingly but his hazel eyes were brimming with tears and Calum refused to listen. Ashton must just by lying to spare his feelings and it was making Calum feel sicker than ever now because he couldn’t _stand_ this. Calum didn’t want Ashton to touch him because he was fat- _fat_ - ** _fat_** _ **.**_

Ashton was staring at Calum with absolute horror now and the agony dawning on the older boy’s face made Calum freeze as panic flooded icily through him because… god, what if Ashton could see the younger boy’s thoughts on his face? What if he knew what Calum was thinking?

Ashton’s grip slackened and the dark-haired boy escaped, wriggling backwards on the sofa until his back was plastered to the armrest, his shaking fingers biting into the cushions. A tear slipped down Ashton’s cheek and he’d gone _white_ now, trembling as he stared at Calum with wide horrified eyes.

“Oh my god,” Ashton choked out and he looked like he felt _just_ as sick as Calum did. Ashton’s eyes were still wide – _frantic_ almost – and it didn’t take a genius to work out that he was on the brink of having a panic attack again. Calum forced his own worries away for now, crawling forwards hesitantly and gripping Ashton’s shoulders, fighting the urge to shake him in an effort to snap him out of it.

Calum felt brittle and frozen in Ashton’s arms when the older boy wrapped his arms around Calum’s waist again, tucking his tear-streaked face away into Calum’s neck as he sobbed. The younger boy could barely focus on that though; all he could feel were Ashton’s hands on his fucking _fat_ and it was making him want to tear all of his skin away so that he could rip it off with his bare hands. Ashton choked on a sob like he knew exactly what Calum was thinking.

“Ash?” The dark-haired boy was terrified now because Ashton drew back jerkily, staring up at Calum like he _knew_ and… and this was so, _so_ much worse than when Ashley had found out. This was **dangerous** because it was _Ashton_ and he knew Calum well enough that he could tear the younger boy apart with a single word. “You… you know that I… that…”

Ashton tugged anxiously at his sleeves like he used to when he was cutting and Calum’s arms stung, throbbing in sympathy almost. Ashton’s dismay was only overshadowed by the dread in his hazel eyes as the tears spilt over but he didn’t even seem to _notice_ them.

Calum thought Ashton looked a lot like someone he loved had just been stabbed in front of him.

“You’ve been cutting too…”

Calum didn’t know how Ashton had drawn that conclusion but he couldn’t lie to him anymore. He was too drained, felt like all of the life had seeped out of him through the scratches in his wrists without him even noticing.

It wasn’t like anyone would miss him anyway.

Not anymore.

Calum hadn’t shone for a very long time.

Ashton was still staring at him in horror and Calum rolled his sleeves back without knowing why, his devastated anger and dazed shock battling for dominance on his ashen face as he struggled to breathe. Ashton choked on a sob when he saw the hundreds of neat, straight cuts lining Calum’s scarred arms, and his hazel eyes were blazing with pain now, glazed with it, like all he could feel was the dark-haired boy’s agony.

Calum wondered what Ashton would do if he ever saw the _**PERFECT**_ cut into Calum’s thigh.

He’d find it ironic probably. Calum had never been less perfect in his whole _life_.

“Oh, Calum,” Ashton whispered and he was shaking so violently now, like a leaf in the wind. By comparison, Calum’s fear had frozen him still and he felt almost like he was going into shock, tears running hot down his cheeks as his blood boiled in his veins. “Come here. Please, Cal. Please come here.”

Ashton drew Calum into his arms again and the dark-haired boy went along with it numbly, still struggling not to let any of his weight settle on Ashton as he gripped the older boy’s hands tightly in his own, squeezing them to his chest so that Ashton couldn’t feel how fat he was.

“I’m sorry,” Calum whispered because Ashton was sobbing against him now, shuddering like he was going to fall apart as they sank down onto the sofa, Calum curled up tightly as Ashton lay behind him. “I’m _so_ sorry.”

Ashton murmured meaningless platitudes as his fingers twitched in Calum’s grip, like he wanted to stroke the younger boy’s hair back or cuddle him properly… only Calum wouldn’t let him. He’d never let anyone _again_ probably. He’d certainly never deserved it less.

Ashton’s platitudes were pointless and Calum tuned them out quickly because they didn’t disguise the shaking in the older boy’s voice… the guilt and pain saturating his tone as Calum fell apart against him, choking on his heartbroken sobs.

In that moment, it didn’t matter that Calum was lying in Ashton’s arms. He felt about ten thousand miles away from him, like Ashton was on the other side of the planet and – no matter how fast the curly-haired boy ran – he’d never get to Calum in time.

Maybe he wouldn’t even try to run.

Calum wouldn’t blame him.

They weren't the same people anymore because Ashton’s pain had made him harder and Calum was scattering like dust in the wind.

“I miss you,” Calum breathed because it felt like he’d never know Ashton again now.

“I miss you too,” the older boy murmured, lips brushing Calum’s shoulder chastely because the younger boy wouldn’t let him comfort him in any other way. Ashton’s curls were tickling the back of Calum’s neck and his chocolate brown eyes were blank when they slid open.

He could hear Ashton talking as though the older boy was somewhere very far away; he was telling Calum that he needed to tell someone now before things got any worse… as if they could even _get_ any worse.

Calum jerked out of his grip harshly, eyes wide as he turned to face Ashton who was rising on shaky legs now, cheeks flushed and expression pained.

“I don’t need to tell anyone! There’s nothing wrong! I’m fine!” Calum insisted, aware that it was useless and secure in the knowledge that nothing had ever been _less_ fine than it was right now. “Just leave, Ash! Just fucking _go_!”

Ashton was still begging Calum to tell someone, making desperate threats and fighting against his tears as he stood crying in the hallway, and it was only when Calum physically shoved him out of the front door – so weak that Ashton began to cry anew – that the dark-haired boy finally let himself _feel_.

The pain and terror crashed down over him like a tidal wave. Calum’s knees gave out beneath him as he broke down sobbing and Calum sank down onto the floor in the hallway, knees drawn up to his chest and bleeding arms wrapped tightly around them, like he was trying to keep himself together.

Calum cried like his heart was breaking in his chest, cried until he was numb, cried until he heard his parents' car pull up in the driveway over an hour later.

Calum staggered to his feet when he heard the car doors slamming shut, head spinning so badly that he felt faint as he hid in the first room he came to upstairs. His eyes prickled when he shut the door to Mali’s bedroom carefully, holding his breath until he realised his parents were heading straight into the living room instead of coming upstairs.

Calum slumped down onto his sister’s bed as fresh tears began to fall now that the momentary burst of adrenaline had burnt out of his system. He buried his damp face in Mali’s pillow and, while it didn’t smell of her anymore – hairspray and perfume and something Calum had always identified as _home_ – that didn’t stop him from pretending that she was holding him when he pulled the duvet up over his narrow, trembling shoulders.

Calum tucked his face away into the soft material and sobbed.

Sometimes he felt like he was never going to be alright again… hoped he wouldn’t wake up the next morning because the pain was too bad and Calum couldn’t carry on anymore.

Sometimes he prayed that everything would just _stop_.

This was one of those nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading!  
> I’m sorry it was angsty but I really hope you all enjoyed it!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3
> 
> Also, if you fancy crying your eyes out, watch this video of fetus!Calum singing the song from this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfGtcuv9SyY


	70. Leads To Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _Aleisha’s eyes were dark as she let out another sob, wriggling closer so that she was sitting under his arm again. He cuddled her closer as the long branches of the willow tree swayed, forming a green, fresh-smelling curtain between them and the rest of the world._  
>  _Aleisha turned her head where it was cushioned against his neck, pressing a firm kiss to his shoulder through the denim jacket. Another tear rolled hotly down Calum’s cheek._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm sorry for the delay but I wanted to wait until I was in the right mood to update this fic!  
> I hope you guys will like this one - I enjoyed writing it but it's quite angsty so just a heads up!  
> Enjoy :)

**_Don't wake us up; we'd rather just keep dreaming,_ **

**_‘Cause the nightmares in our heads are bad enough._ **

_\- The Sadness Will Never End, Bring Me The Horizon_

 

Calum was doing his best to keep his head buried firmly in the sand. If he was hiding from himself, he wasn’t thinking about how raw his heart felt when he looked at Michael; how he missed Mali so much it hurt; how everything felt like it was slipping through Calum’s fingers like smoke; how he’d heard his mum crying again the other night after David had hit her; how the fact that Ashton _knew_ made him feel sicker than his fingers clawing his throat did.

Calum had made Ashton promise not to tell anyone what he’d learnt – the older boy had insisted on only giving his best friend a week but Calum knew he could persuade him to wait longer - but Ashton’s pale, frightened face still swam through Calum’s head when he tried to fall asleep at night, and the haunted look in Ashton’s eyes stayed with him for a long time.

Calum was going for longer and longer walks, wearing nothing but a denim jacket over his long-sleeved t-shirt so that the sting of the cold air made him feel less numb. The sea spray chilled him when he walked along the beach at night but, despite how exhausted he felt, Calum could barely sleep anymore because – when he _did_ manage to pass out – he always dreamt of Michael leaving him.

Calum had only seen Aleisha once since that day at the park when Michael had torn everything apart, and Calum found it hard to look at her now when he remembered how desperately Michael had suggested that Calum go with her instead. It just made him ache, made him remember how much he’d _lost_ but… but Aleisha _was_ still one of Calum’s best friends. He’d missed her a lot.

He was heading to see her now actually, with his trembling hands buried in his pockets and his shower-damp hair drying in messy curls over his tanned forehead. As he walked along in his battered Vans – starting to fall apart because of how much use they were getting – he realised with a start that he’d only seen the younger girl a few times since they’d kissed and that realisation sent a little shiver of unease through him as he turned onto her road, stubbing his cigarette out clumsily under his shoe.

There were no lights on in the house – her parents must have been out again – and Calum was starting to worry that maybe she wasn’t even home herself when he heard a soft choking sound coming from the front garden. Startled, Calum peered into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the shadows now that there were no streetlights nearby to illuminate his surroundings.

What he saw made his heart ache dully in his chest.

Aleisha was sitting on the bench beneath the willow tree, knees drawn up to her chest as her eyes swam with tears. She was crying hard, mascara streaking down her flushed cheeks, her sandy hair a mess from where she’d been raking her fingers through it. The tip of her cigarette glowed ominously in the darkness and her shoulders heaved with sobs as she tried to inhale but only succeeded in choking on the smoke.

It was the saddest thing Calum had ever seen and he bit his bottom lip hard as his eyes welled with tears, the gravel of the driveway crunching beneath his feet as he drifted cautiously closer. Aleisha looked up sharply at the sound, her cheeks flaming hotter as she squared her jaw, fighting to take another drag of the cigarette.

The bench’s wooden seat felt slightly damp when Calum sank down onto it and he shifted uncomfortably as his bones ached. Aleisha was trying harder to be quiet now, her blue eyes burning as her breath caught in her throat.

“Hey, Leish,” Calum said dully when she finally managed to regain control of her tears. “You wanna talk about it?”

Her head fell to rest on his shoulder almost unconsciously and Calum found a tiny bit of him was pleased that he was still allowed to have this; Calum would have missed her too much if she wouldn’t even let herself be close to him anymore.

“This has been the worst day ever,” she said, hiccupping on another sob as a tiny humourless laugh escaped her. Her eyelashes were spiky with tears and she smeared her mascara even worse when she rubbed her eyes hard with her knuckles.

“What happened?” Calum asked, nudging her weakly with his elbow. She huffed out another laugh but the tears were starting to fall again and Calum kind of wanted to kiss them away. She raised her cigarette shakily to her mouth, breathing in the smoke thinly.

“Blondie broke up with me,” she said, the words soft and quiet; _measured_ almost, like she was trying not to cry again. Calum’s chocolate brown eyes widened in shock. “He told me he was _gay_.” Her voice shook and there was something pained in her eyes that only multiplied when Calum put his arm around her gently.

Aleisha looked up at him, lips parted around the cigarette, blue eyes catching the faintest hint of moonlight as her face gleamed with tears.

“He says he’s been sleeping with Ashton for months.”

Aleisha’s voice took on a curious hollow quality and Calum flinched away, withdrawing his arm as he stared down at the dew-wet grass with dread. He was terrified she was never going to want to talk to him against after he’d kept this from her and, honestly, Calum couldn’t even blame her.

He looked up fearfully and, with a jolt, discovered Aleisha looking evenly back at him, her expression surprisingly calm and lacking any anger. Her sparkling eyes were still swimming with tears but she cupped his cheek gently as they overflowed, her bottom lip bitten raw as she tortured it between her teeth again. Most of her lipstick had been wiped away now and it made her look younger somehow.

“I know you knew, Cal,” she whispered and her hands were trembling _so_ hard. A tear slid down Calum’s cheek and she made a hurt sound, like someone had knocked all of the breath out of her.

“Leish, I –”

“I don’t blame you, Cal,” she murmured, shaking her head hopelessly as the tears began to fall harder. “I know Ashton’s your friend. And blondie… I wouldn’t expect you to –”

“But you’re my friend too,” Calum whispered, the anguish plain on his face as he watched her with burning eyes. “I owed you that. I…”

She didn’t say anything in response and Calum felt something wither inside of him. Aleisha looked away, straightening her legs with just enough discomfort on her face that he realised she must have been sitting there for a while but, as she swept her long curly hair over her shoulder – between them so he couldn’t see her face? – her cigarette fell from her shaking fingers, landing in the wet grass. She watched it helplessly, her expression devastated as the tears in her eyes began to fall again.

Now that Calum was looking down, he could see the remains of at least five cigarettes and she was trying to roll another one now, her breath catching raggedly in her throat again with sobs as she tried to get a filter from her tin. Calum caught her wrist gently, stopping her with concern plain on his face. She looked up at him with furious, agonised eyes.

“What’re you doing?!” she demanded and Calum’s gaze fell to rest on the cigarettes again.

“I think you’ve had enough,” he whispered and her jaw set as she gave him a weak shove that would still probably end up bruising him now.

“I’m smoking to _die_ , Calum!” she snapped as the tears leaked down her cheeks again. “Why won’t you fucking let me?”

Calum didn’t know how to put his feelings into words; his worries that she was going to flicker out like candlelight if she didn’t hold herself together. Her lips were still slightly parted but she fell silent, her palms falling to settle on the damp bench, her tears clinging to her jaw before they dropped.

Her lips tasted faintly waxy from the remains of the lipstick when Calum rocked forwards awkwardly to press their mouths together. He didn’t know _why_ he’d kissed her; just that it was the only thing he could think of that would stop her crying… that would make the hollow in his chest feel less terrible.

She reeled back in shock, her fingertips cold and trembling as she reached to brush his cheekbone gently. His curls were a flyaway mess now but it felt good when she wound her fingers through them for a moment, keeping him close.

“Sorry,” Calum choked out and Aleisha’s eyes were dark as she let out another sob, wriggling closer so that she was sitting under his arm again. He cuddled her closer as the long branches of the willow tree swayed, forming a green, fresh-smelling curtain between them and the rest of the world.

Aleisha turned her head where it was cushioned against his neck, pressing a firm kiss to his shoulder through the denim jacket. Another tear rolled hotly down Calum’s cheek.

“I saw Ashton right after… after blondie…” She began speaking suddenly, talking in a hushed voice, and it took the older boy a moment to remember how this conversation had even started. “And… I hit him, Cal.” Her voice was small and scared, and she was staring down at her hand like she was expecting to see evidence there. “I _hit_ him.”

Calum squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, pressing a kiss to her hair. It still smelt like apples and smoke. His heart felt too big for his chest at times like this.

“You didn’t mean to,” Calum whispered, stroking her hair back gently from her sweaty forehead and tucking a lock of it behind her ear. She let her eyes fall shut as she exhaled unevenly. “You were upset, Leish. He wouldn’t blame you.”

The younger girl let out a sad little sigh, relaxing back against the bench. A breeze blew and the branches swayed again and, for just a moment, moonlight splashed over her face, painting her skin silvery. She looked ethereal almost, reminded Calum of that night outside the pub when she’d flung her head back to gaze up at the stars. Calum remembered the things they’d said.

‘ _It makes you feel tiny, doesn’t it? Looking up there. Makes you feel insignificant… like nothing you do ever really matters._ ’

‘ _You’re so important. You don’t deserve to have to deal with any of this shit._ ’

‘ _Neither do you._ ’

It made a lump rise in Calum’s throat when he remembered that because, even when Aleisha was falling apart, she was still trying to comfort Calum. He thought about her that night in her David Bowie t-shirt with her tired eyes and her leather jacket, and he compared it to her now – huddled up on a bench in the darkness with wild curls and agonised eyes that seemed too big for her fragile face – and the feelings coursing through him were impossible to ignore now, even if they _would_ never be enough.

“I think I’m always going to love you, Leish,” Calum admitted softly. Aleisha smiled and, for the first time that night, it reached her eyes – for a moment anyway, before it flickered away like a shooting star.

“I’ll always love you too, Cal,” she promised and Calum’s eyes clouded with pain. “Can… can I kiss you? I know it doesn’t mean anything… but…”

“You don’t want to feel lonely anymore,” Calum finished for her, his voice faint and weak as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. She gave a jerky nod, her hair rippling like golden waves. “It’s okay, Leish. I promise it’s okay.”

She twisted on the bench to face him and crossed her legs, her cold hands small on his cheeks as her tear-red eyes fluttered shut. Calum closed the gap between them.

Aleisha let out a tiny, contented sigh into the kiss and Calum switched off for a little while, just focusing on the feeling of her full lips and the apple-sweet smell of her hair as it tickled his face.

When she finally drew back – just far enough away that her forehead fell to rest against his – he wasn’t particularly surprised to discover that there were tears running down his cheeks. His shaking hand settled comfortingly on her arm and she jerked it away with a soft hiss, her expression abruptly pained.

Calum watched her with dawning horror, reaching out hesitantly for her bare arm in the darkness. Panic flared in her eyes when he ducked his head, squinting to make out the cut on her arm – one solitary cut – that, if she wasn’t careful, could very well act as the key to Pandora’s Box.

Calum raised her arm shakily and pressed the lightest, gentlest kiss to the smooth skin of her wrist, his dark eyes pleading with her as she looked down at him in shock.

“Please, Leish,” Calum begged, his voice desperate but so caring that it made her eyes prickle with fresh tears. “Please, _please_ try not to do that again.” He pressed another kiss there before she cupped his cheek gently, her eyes frightened. “I promise it won’t help.”

There was something frightened in her face as she looked over at him, like she could see right through his skull and into his head.

“I promise I’ll try,” she said after a long, long moment and – possibly against the odds – Calum believed her.

He pulled her into a tight hug and, almost like she knew how he felt, she kept her hands on his shoulders so that he wouldn’t feel fat. She felt small in his arms and she was shivering from the cold. Calum pressed a brief kiss to her forehead as he drew back.

“Are you going to go inside and get warmed up now?” he prompted gently and she smiled like her heart hurt in her chest.

“If you insist,” she said weakly, her hand falling to half-heartedly cover her sore arm when she stepped out of the shadows. Calum followed her onto the driveway and, although he waited for her to go up to her front door, she lingered in front of him for a moment, faltering before she reached out to tangle their fingers together hesitantly.

“I know you cut too, Cal,” she said before he could ask her what she was thinking about. His heart shuddered painfully in his chest and, although he waited for his panic to engulf him, it never did. Having Aleisha know didn’t feel the same as Ashton.

Calum simply hung his head for a moment, working to keep his breathing steady as his free hand curled into a loose fist.

“That’s because you’re one of my best friends,” Calum said quietly.

He left her standing there in the darkness with tears in her eyes and a tiny twist to her lips, like she didn’t know whether to smile or cry. Calum kissed her cheek before he walked away and neither of them spoke.

He walked home without smoking for once, his thoughts clouded with how much kissing her _still_ felt like he was betraying Michael, even after everything the older boy had said and done.

In contrast to Aleisha’s house, all of the lights in Calum’s house were blazing when he finally unlocked the door with shaking hands and it sent dread shooting through him like lightning.

Joy was hovering in the hallway waiting for him, the hint of a bruise blooming beneath her eye as she reached to take his hand, the relief clear on her face.

“I was worried,” she said softly. “We got home and you were gone.”

‘ _They thought I’d left,_ ’ Calum realised with mild shock. ‘ _They thought I’d ran away like Mali did._ ’

But Calum wasn’t going to leave while his mum was still stuck here; while he was still trying to pass his exams and keep pretending that everything was okay; while he was still fighting – and failing – to be perfect; while he was so damn lost… because honestly, where could he go?

There was nowhere.

“Where’ve you been?” David demanded from the living room doorway and Calum looked up in shock, stunned that his dad cared enough to ask.

“Oh, I… I was out with –” Calum faltered, inventing wildly. “– with Violet.” He felt guilty the moment he said her name but he was glad he had that lie to fall back on now. “We just went for a walk…” David leered at that and Calum shuddered, folding his arms tightly over his chest. “I’m sorry though – I should’ve told you guys where I was going.”

“That’s okay,” Joy said softly, missing the flicker of annoyance crossing her husband’s face when she spoke before he could. “Just text me next time, okay? I was worried about you.”

“I will,” Calum said quietly, relaxing when David stalked back into the living room. He pulled his mum into a one-armed hug. “I’m sorry I worried you. Will you be okay if I go to bed though? I’m really tired.”

Her face looked drawn and unusually pale but she forced a faint smile, nodding at him as she gave his narrow shoulder a weak squeeze that did absolutely nothing to reassure him.

“I’ll be fine, Calum,” she whispered, glancing nervously towards the living room and away again quickly. “Now up to bed, okay? Your father’s upset. I don’t…”

“I understand.” Calum pecked her briefly on the cheek but his dark eyes were worried and _so_ exhausted as he tripped up the stairs in the semi-darkness, for once shutting himself straight in his room without stopping to purge first.

His thoughts were a tangled mess of Aleisha and Michael, and Calum’s torn skin was throbbing beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt as he slumped down onto his bed, burying his face in the clean-smelling fabric of his duvet cover.

Slowly, Calum’s whirling thoughts calmed until he was only thinking of one thing: **Michael**... with his soft red hair and his emerald green eyes, and the coconut-coffee-chocolate smell of him; how pale his skin was and how his eyelashes were golden when they fanned out on his cheeks.

Calum’s eyes flooded with tears as his hand shot out blindly for the notebook and pen he kept in the drawers beside his bed. The very moment he’d torn to a new page, Calum started writing without thinking, changing the pronouns on the off-chance that someone might find it but… damnit, Calum couldn’t pretend anymore.

 

**_She’s got a method of killing:_ ******

**_Pulling you in like you’re gonna start kissing;_ ******

**_Fooling around until you’ve lost all feeling;_ ******

**_Sucking your blood until your heart stops beating._ ******

 

The lyrics spilt out of him like a flood but he couldn’t hold them back because he was starting to get the terrifying feeling that Michael was **it** for him… and maybe he always would be.

 

**_Before we started, it was over._ ******

**_I feel our bodies getting colder._ ******

**_She gives me a feeling that I can’t fight,_ ******

**_And it’s the road that leads to nowhere,_ ******

**_But all I want to do is go there._ ******

**_She’s got me running from the daylight, daylight._ ******

 

Calum could see Michael everywhere he looked; his laughter, his pain, his tears, his lust… and, more than anything, the blazing love that had saturated his expression that night of the party… the love that he had buried now, far enough down that Calum could never reach it, no matter _how_ badly he needed it.

 

**_I got a taste for it and I’m obsessed;_ ******

**_Lying here no fear in the darkness._ ******

**_Now I’m not happy unless I’m close enough to you,_ ******

**_And all the dreams I’m dreaming,_ ******

**_Freaking me out; I wish I knew the meaning._ ******

**_Doesn’t make sense because I’m just not seeing,_ ******

**_How I’m alive; it feels like I’m not breathing._ ******

 

Calum fell asleep with his pen in his hand and his tear-wet cheek pressed against the paper.

He dreamt about Michael again that night but that was no surprise.

Calum always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought by leaving comments and kudos <3
> 
> Also I'm very excited because I'm going to see 5SOS on Friday (2 days!!!) Is anyone else seeing them during SLFL?? :)


	71. Broken Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Ashton was_ scarily _quiet as Michael helped him limp out of the alleyway – he could hear Ashton suffocating in the silence beside him; buried and crushed beneath it – and Michael’s heart felt like it had stopped beating in his chest now as the blood trickled down his chin._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I’m really sorry for the delay! This chapter is kind of ‘meanwhile’ to the last one I guess? Just so the timeline makes sense.  
> Trigger warning for rape. Be safe please, my lovelies.

_**We all carry these things inside that no one else can see.** _

_**They hold us down like anchors.** _

_**They drown us out at sea.** _

_\- Chelsea Smile, Bring Me The Horizon_

 

Two days had passed since Graham had found his nephew curled up on the sofa – tears streaming down his face as his fingertips bled – and things were both better and worse for Michael.

They were _better_ because Graham now realised the extent of his nephew’s condition and was doing his utmost to help it improve (which generally consisted of encouraging Michael to talk to him when he was feeling distressed, and dropping not-so-subtle hints that going to counselling and asking for medication weren’t signs of weakness).

Things were _worse_ because… well, _Michael_ was worse.

It kind of hurt to realise that he was just a mess of broken pieces, barely holding himself together anymore. Michael’s sudden bouts of anxiety were crippling and he kept getting trapped in loops; losing himself in an endless cycle of crying in frustration as he washed his hands and tidied things away, over and over again because it never felt quite _right_ … not that Michael had any idea what that would feel like.

Michael hadn’t felt _right_ in a very long time – maybe his whole _life_.

The red-haired boy had got trapped again that evening actually, stuck beside the sink as he washed his hands again and again, angry tears trickling down his flushed cheeks, hands dry and cracking because he’d washed all of the natural oils from his skin. Graham had found him and pulled him out of it, sitting Michael down firmly on the edge of the bath and rubbing moisturiser into his sore hands despite the younger boy’s weak disapproval.

“You’re going to be okay, mate,” Graham said softly once he was done, sitting back on his heels and watching Michael with sad eyes as a tear rolled down his nephew's cheek. “I know it might not seem like it right now but you _will_ be okay. Things can and _will_ get better, okay? You just need to give them a chance, Mike.”

Michael sniffed, dredging up the faintest smile ever as he got shakily to his feet.

“Thank you, Gray,” he said in a small voice and the red-haired boy might have been over six foot tall but, when Graham pulled him into a loose hug, it made Michael feel like a little kid again.

“Why don’t you arrange to do something fun?” Graham suggested softly. “To take your mind off everything?” His voice was half-hearted at best, like maybe he didn’t really think his nephew would go for it. Michael was so tired of feeling like this though. He wanted to feel _alive_ again.

“That sounds good... but I don’t have anyone.” Michael sounded tragic probably but it didn’t really change anything; he supposed he could go with Dan who he played games with sometimes but…

Graham saw the indecision on his nephew’s face and bit his lip worriedly.

“I understand why you wouldn’t want to hang out with –” The nurse faltered before saying Calum’s name and Michael fought down against the shudder building, fighting not to show that his eyes were prickling with tears again. Graham looked crestfallen. “What about Ashton?” the older man asked weakly. “Can’t you go out with him?”

Michael thought about that for a moment with guilt rising inside him. The last time he’d spoken to Ashton properly had been two days ago at school, right after the older boy and Calum had pretty much walked in on Michael kissing that guy, and then Ashton had berated him for it.

Michael had handled it badly though and he definitely hadn’t been thinking straight; Ashton only worried because he cared. Michael should never have shot him down for that.

“I need to apologise to him,” the red-haired boy realised unhappily, biting back a shudder as he opened the bathroom door with his elbow and headed for his room, searching for his pyjamas. “But I think he’ll say yes.”

Ashton was always looking for distractions these days anyway, doing his absolute best to avoid even _thinking_ about the boy he’d fallen in love with. Michael felt a lump rise in his throat as he considered that though because maybe Luke was Ashton’s _Calum_.

That would at least explain why the curly-haired boy looked so devastated whenever Luke was mentioned. Maybe Ashton and Michael had even more in common than they’d first realised.

Michael texted Ashton when he was in bed that night, tucked up hours earlier than usual because his constant plaguing thoughts were draining him. Michael apologised and invited Ashton to come clubbing with him, despite it not really being the older boy’s scene. Ashton replied almost instantly though and Michael’s melancholy threatened to choke him as he read the message: ‘ **Don’t apologise. But sure I’ll come with you. You’re buying the drinks though. :P x** ’

Michael hadn’t realised it until that moment but he missed spending time with Ashton so much that it kind of _hurt_. At least they were going to spend Friday night together though; that seemed important.

Michael still felt like that when he woke up the next morning, feeling surprisingly energetic for so early in the morning as Graham drove him to school. They sang along to Counting Crows in the car and Michael’s emerald green eyes settled on his anchor tattoo, bolder than ever against his irritated skin. He knew the whole point of an anchor was to hold something down – to keep it grounded – but Michael wished it would keep him afloat instead. It was probably a foolish hope but that didn’t stop him. It never had done before.

School was a lot more bearable when Michael was talking to Ashton again, and Thursday and Friday flew by. Calum hadn’t been in lessons and Michael had got a surprising amount of revision done which would hopefully go some small way to comforting Graham. It made Michael feel good too... made him begin to hope that maybe things could get better.

Michael met Ashton outside the club, dressed in a dark leather jacket over a white t-shirt and skinny jeans that he’d paired off with his faithful combat boots. Ashton was dressed similarly in a thin, long-sleeved black shirt and dark jeans with a grey bandana tying his curls back; Michael had helped him pick his outfit out on skype and the older boy was tugging nervously at the hem of his shirt as he came to meet Michael, smiling slightly awkwardly as he braced himself.

“Don’t stress, Ash,” the red-haired boy said gently, taking his best friend lightly by the arm – Michael barely shuddered which he congratulated himself for silently – as he led the older boy inside. “This is going to be fun. Just stick with me, okay? I’ll keep you safe.”

The music was pounding by the time they’d reached the front of the queue and Ashton’s hazel eyes widened when the pair of them entered the club. It seemed to be pretty much exactly what the older boy had been expecting, and he looked small and vulnerable as he stood there, looking like he wouldn’t hurt a fly.

The place was packed but Michael made out a few familiar faces as he towed Ashton inside. Michael realised then that maybe he spent too much time here but he figured at least it prepared him; for example, he knew that the black-haired woman leaning on the bar would hit on anyone who walked within a ten metre radius of her and the tall, dark-haired man in the leather jacket watching the dance floor with hungry eyes was absolutely _not_ to be trusted. The stranger’s white teeth gleamed and he smiled like a shark when he caught Michael watching him. The red-haired boy looked away quickly, forcing himself to ignore the man looking at them as he tugged Ashton over to order the first round of drinks.

“I’ll get these,” Michael called loudly over the music, squeezing Ashton’s hand reassuringly when he saw the smaller boy’s eyes flickering around with something that looked a lot like alarm. Michael didn’t even realise he’d _touched_ him until he reached to dig his wallet out. “This was my idea so I may as well bankrupt myself first.”

Ashton managed a weak grin but his smile had become real by his second drink and Michael was relaxing too. The music was surprisingly good and Michael’s head felt pleasantly fuzzy as he danced with Ashton, and the older boy was giggling into his neck as he clung to him. The Lady Gaga song currently playing came to an end and Michael leant closer to be heard over the music, sniggering when Ashton’s curls tickled his face.

“I’m gonna get us more drinks!” Michael yelled, red-faced and grinning as his eyes twinkled. “Same as before?”

“Sure! I’ll be over in a minute!” Ashton’s dimples were creasing his cheeks but he didn’t follow Michael to the bar this time, clearly comfortable enough now that he’d rather stay and dance until the drinks were ready. The club had grown busier as the night stretched on and Michael could barely see Ashton through the crowd now, just glimpses of him as he danced, completely oblivious to all of the appreciative looks he was drawing from the surrounding people.

Michael figured that shouldn’t really surprise him though – Ashton was a good-looking guy after all, even if the younger boy _didn’t_ look at him in that way. Michael was still watching Ashton fondly when the dark-haired man from earlier pushed himself away from the wall, zeroing in on Ashton with his shark eyes.

Suddenly, Michael wished Ashton didn’t look so good anymore. He wished the smaller boy wasn’t still blushing with his dimples and his soft curls because there was _worry_ colouring Ashton’s face now, and Michael could feel his pride turning to concern.

“Ash?” Michael mumbled, his vision slightly blurry now as he saw Ashton stiffen when the stranger’s hands settled on his waist. “Just tell him to get off.”

Michael felt a flare of protective anger flood through him when he saw the man touching his best friend because, no matter what, Ashton was Michael’s _brother_ pretty much and… and damnit, there was uncertainty on the smaller boy’s face now… almost _fear_.

Michael wasn’t so sure that Ashton _wanted_ whatever the man was offering but, before Michael had had time to do much more than realise that there was no _way_ he was elbowing his way through the crowd in time, the bartender called out behind him and broke his concentration. Michael glanced backwards instinctively, only for a second but the damage was done. The dark-haired man – way, _way_ taller than Ashton – was already leading the curly-haired boy away and Michael could only watch in shock for a long moment before his anxiety started to burn away the alcohol clouding his brain.

“Ashton!” Michael called but the music was far too loud for his voice to carry and there was a new song pounding through the speakers now – You’ve Got The Love by Florence + The Machine – and Michael was starting to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that felt _just_ like when he was falling into a loop; a panicked gnawing sensation that wouldn’t lessen until he’d washed his hands bloody… until he’d made sure it was _perfect_ –

But it was never perfect… and now Michael had lost Ashton.

Michael’s head swam sickeningly when he took a lurching step forwards, drinks forgotten as his dizziness overwhelmed him and the memory of Ashton’s pale, frightened face flickered behind his eyes. Michael’s stomach was tying itself into knots as he started to barge his way through the crowd but it was slow-going and Michael was starting to think that maybe he’d drunk more than he realised.

It seemed to take an age for Michael to make it to the other side of the room; there were _far_ too many people inside now and his fear was making him feel sick. It only got worse when someone he vaguely knew from school appeared and tried to start a conversation though because Ashton _needed_ him and Michael didn’t have time for anything else.

His panic had almost overwhelmed him when he pushed past them, heading for the door with renewed determination now. It was cooler in the corridor outside, darker and quieter, and the fire doors at the far end had been left slightly ajar as the song lyrics drifted out behind him.

“Ashton?” Michael was calling his best friend’s name before he’d even made it halfway down the hallway, his eyes fixed on the crack of inky sky and the brickwork of the building next door that was just visible through the open doors. The music was quiet this far back and Michael couldn’t hear any cars either; his pulse sounded deafening in the moments before he shouted Ashton’s name again. Michael’s shoulder hit the doorframe hard as he staggered into it but the cool air was sobering him and he was growing even more panicky now.

“Ashton? _Ash_?!” Michael’s voice cracked as the fire door slammed into the wall with an audible clang but Michael could hear something else coming from the alley stretching outside the nightclub now – heavy breathing and the rhythmic slap of skin and… fuck, Michael must have missed Ashton inside somewhere because there was no _way_ he’d ever do something like this.

It was shadowy and dark but Michael could just make out the two figures and the taller one looked up at him suddenly, eyes glinting with something like anger. Michael started to apologise, cheeks flaming as he took an unwilling step back. His eyes flickered down though and he saw familiar honey-coloured curls tied back with a grey bandana… heard a heartbroken sob that shook him to the core and… and, _fuck_ , the realisation of what was going on felt like boiling water being tipped over him in a flood.

Michael saw red.

“No! Ashton!” Michael barely even registered he was shouting as he started forwards, hands scraping on the brickwork as he struggled to keep his balance, eyes burning with tears as he realised with a jolt that he was further away from them than he’d originally thought. “No!” Michael yelled but his voice cracked when the man kept moving. “No, no, no! _Stop_!”

The man was pressing Ashton’s face down hard into the dirt and Michael was crying now, tears burning hot down his cheeks as he collided with them and heaved the guy away. The stranger was drunk enough that it took two shoves before he even registered that Michael had slammed him back into the wall but Ashton cried out in pain, the sound broken and terrified, and Michael felt like he was going to be sick now because he was sobbing so much.

Michael’s scraped hand was shaking when he curled it into a fist and his tears were choking him as he drove his fist into the man’s stomach, punching him as hard as he could. Ashton wasn’t moving on the ground anymore and Michael’s tears were blinding him so completely that he didn’t see the stranger’s fist swinging towards him through the darkness until it was too late.

Michael’s face exploded with pain, bursting his lip and making him spit blood as Ashton remained motionless. The stranger looked drunker than ever now, his eyes unfocused and his dark hair rumpled as he stared down at Michael in shock.

“What the hell is wrong with you, kid?!” the guy demanded, shoving Michael away from him hard. The red-haired boy stumbled but he was crying harder now, smearing blood across his cheek as he wiped it away thoughtlessly with his fist. The man’s shark eyes settled on Ashton again and Michael’s heart lurched painfully in his chest.

“Get away from him!” Michael tried to shout but his voice was weak and he was sobbing so hard that he almost lost his balance when he pushed the man again. The stranger stumbled backwards, standing on Ashton’s ankle clumsily and making the older boy cry harder as he lay face down in the dirt.

The man followed Michael’s gaze, his jaw hanging slack now like maybe he hadn’t realised Ashton was crying before. Ashton had bitten a bloody mark into his own arm where he'd been trying to keep silent and Michael’s tears felt like they were never going to stop.

“He… he said he wanted it…” the man said drunkenly and… god, Michael wanted to kill him. Michael actually wanted to _kill_ him for doing this to Ashton because nothing – _nothing_ – would ever make this right again.

Michael’s laugh sounded murderous when it tore its way out of his sore throat and… damnit, laughing when he felt like he was _dying_ was definitely not a good habit to get into.

“Does that _look_ like someone who fucking _wanted_ it?!” Michael demanded, almost gagging at the taste of blood in his mouth now as Ashton’s fingers twitched on the floor nearby, edging towards Michael’s boot and clinging to it like it was the only thing anchoring him.

Michael’s eyes burnt with fresh tears.

The man took one look down at the broken sobbing boy lying on the ground and then he was gone, sprinting away and slamming his shoulder drunkenly into the wall as he escaped, and Michael hoped the man broke his bones as he ran. He hoped he got hit by a fucking _truck_ –

And then Michael’s reddened eyes settled on Ashton lying limply on the ground in front of him as he sobbed. The smaller boy’s knuckles were torn, his arm was bleeding from where he’d bitten it when he was trying to keep his sobs in, his nails were caked with dirt, and his tanned skin was _ashen_.

Michael knelt down shakily beside him but he was too scared to touch him now that he was close enough to see how violently the smaller boy was shaking. Ashton looked like he might crumble to dust in a strong wind and Michael’s breath caught in his throat when the older boy looked up at him, wincing in pain as fresh tears welled in his hazel eyes. The shame in them hurt to _look_ at.

“Mike,” Ashton said hoarsely, voice rough from crying. Blood was welling up in his bottom lip where he’d attacked it with his teeth.

“Oh, _Ash_ ,” Michael gasped out, reaching for his best friend without knowing what to do. Ashton let out another sob when he allowed Michael to help him into a sitting position but Ashton flinched away when Michael’s hand settled comfortingly on his back and it made the red-haired boy want to punch the stranger all over again because… god, he didn’t know how to _help_.

Michael bit back his tears when Ashton pulled away from him – like he was afraid to let his best friend touch him almost – except Ashton was clinging to Michael too, his shaking hands fisted so tightly in Michael’s shirt that it felt like he would never let go.

Ashton let out a pained, broken sob as he tucked his face away into Michael’s neck and the taller boy could barely hold his own tears in anymore.

“Shhh, baby, shhh,” Michael breathed helplessly when Ashton’s tears threatened to choke him. Michael was afraid Ashton was going to shake apart… was going to crumble to dust right there in his arms. “It’s okay,” Michael lied. “I _promise_ it’s going to be okay, Ash. I’ll make it okay. I _will.”_ Michael’s voice was shaking so hard that his words didn’t sound right anymore but he barely noticed it, too intent on brushing the tears away gently as he cradled Ashton’s bruised face.

The smaller boy’s eyes were glassy and he didn’t look like he could see what Michael was seeing. There was something dark and terrible buried in his eyes, and Michael couldn’t let himself look into them for too long. He was scared he was going to get sucked in too.

“Have you got your phone with you, Ash?” Michael asked weakly when the silence between them was broken by the older boy sobbing again. “I didn’t bring mine and we need to call the police –”

Ashton pulled away from him hard, shuddering and begging Michael not to call them with tears swimming in his hazel eyes. He looked like he was on the brink of having a panic attack but, when he tried to move, Ashton froze as a moan of pain clawed its way out of his throat. He choked on air and then his eyes looked panic-stricken as he lost everything he’d drunk, spilling the contents of his stomach onto the floor of the alleyway as he heaved and gagged and sobbed. Michael rubbed his back in an attempt to calm him but he was starting to worry that maybe that was making it _worse_ and he pulled his hand away sharpish, despite being too afraid to move any further because Ashton looked like he was about to _break_.

The smaller boy was crying harder than ever now, begging Michael not to call the police in broken little whimpers that rubbed Michael’s heart raw like sandpaper, and the red-haired boy just wanted to help him but he didn’t even know _how_ anymore.

In the end, Michael just did what Ashton wanted and the only time he put his foot down was when he insisted that Ashton went to hospital because… god, he was battered and bruised, and he might have _caught_ something and Michael was so frightened for him that he couldn’t even breathe properly now but Ashton _needed_ him, damnit, and Michael had to pull himself together.

He could fall apart later when he’d got Ashton somewhere _safe_.

“It’s going to be okay,” Michael promised weakly as he helped Ashton stand, fighting not to cry himself at the pained groan that escaped the older boy. “I promise you it’s going to be okay,” Michael repeated but he was lying because he _really_ didn’t think it would be.

Ashton was _scarily_ quiet as Michael helped him limp out of the alleyway – he could hear Ashton suffocating in the silence beside him; buried and crushed beneath it – and Michael’s heart felt like it had stopped beating in his chest now as the blood trickled down his chin.

He didn’t think he could fix things this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading - I literally can't apologise enough for this but it had to happen if we're following the timeline.  
> There's some Luke next if that makes it any better at all...  
> Please let me know what you thought <3


	72. Defeated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Michael just sat there numbly as Luke moved closer too, trying to keep Ashton warm and safe between them as the darkness pressed in closer, the enormity of what had just happened beginning to sink in and leaving them_ reeling _._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this has taken me so long to update.  
> I started a new job and I'm totally trying my best not to have a mental breakdown with all of this fUCKING STRESS but hey... for the first time in a long time, writing actually felt cathartic.  
> This is angsty as fuck but... yeah idk, I hope you guys won't hate it.

**_I can hear you call,_ **

**_Behind a broke down wall,_ **

**_That you’ve been building for so long._ **

_\- Host Of Angels, Taylor Henderson_

 

Michael could hardly breathe with how badly he was panicking but he was fighting _so_ hard to hold it together as Ashton clung to him. The night was darker than ever overhead now and the few pedestrians on the street were giving the pair funny looks as they gave them a wide berth, clearly able to sense the aura of _trouble_ that they were emitting.

Michael was panicking so badly now because it had just occurred to him that there was no way of getting Ashton to the hospital. The older boy was clearly in no fit state to drive and Michael was over the limit so it wasn’t exactly like he could just take over Ashton’s car for him and -

God, they were fucked. They were _fucked_ because it was getting close to one in the morning and Ashton was falling apart in his arms, and Michael’s breath was rasping painfully in his chest as he choked on a sob and -

And the world stopped ending because there on the other side of the road was someone who might just be able to fix this.

“Luke!” Michael shouted, waving his arm around wildly as Ashton let out a heartbroken whimper against his chest. Michael was about to shout the younger boy’s name again - uncaring that he and Ashton hadn’t been speaking for months because this was _so_ much more important than that - but Luke’s face was twisting with pain and he was shouting angrily back that he didn’t even want to _see_ them and -

Luke faltered visibly, stumbling to a stop on the pavement as he squinted across the empty, shadowy road towards them. Michael saw the moment when Luke realised that something was very badly wrong because the blond boy almost _fell_ in his sudden haste to reach them.

Michael let out a little gasp when he saw Luke though because his face was bruised and there was clearly something wrong with his ribs if the way he was favouring his left side was any indication. Michael’s eyes welled with fresh tears as his already-painful throat thickened because, god, now he could remember that night when Ashton had sobbed to him over the phone, gasping out that Luke’s brothers and father _hurt_ him… and here was the proof.

Here, at what felt like the end of the world.

“What happened?” Luke whispered when he was close, his blue eyes swimming with tears as he took in the blood on Michael’s face before his gaze fell to the smaller boy withering between them. Ashton gave a jerk of surprise in Michael’s arms, like he’d only just realised Luke was even _standing_ there, and then he was surging forwards and staggering into Luke’s arms, and Ashton crumpled there like a baby bird as a broken sob heaved out of him.

The alarm on Luke’s face was painfully evident as Ashton sobbed brokenly, shaking so badly that the blond boy was basically holding him up now as Michael’s arms fell to hang limply by his sides. His skin was _crawling_ with how badly he needed to wash his hands and the blood drying on his face was making him feel sick but he barely even noticed his own discomfort as he watched Ashton fearfully.

Luke looked up at Michael warily, lips parting like he was about to ask the question again and… god, Michael had never wanted to speak _less_ because there was love _blazing_ in Luke’s eyes now as Ashton held onto him for the first time in months and… and Michael didn’t want to watch the fire in Luke’s eyes go out.

He didn’t want to be the cause of that.

“Something awful,” Michael said in a hollow little voice, buying time because his heart was racing faster with fear now and Ashton’s sobs were strangled as he shoved his face into Luke’s chest and… and Michael’s knees felt weak, like he was about to fall down.

“Mike?” Luke breathed, his eyes wide and frightened now. Michael swallowed his fear down, fighting for control again.

“There… was this guy,” the red-haired boy said heavily, his voice low and rough with tears. “He… he forced him…” Luke’s eyes were brimming with more tears and Michael didn’t think he was strong enough to say it but… but Ashton’s tears were tearing him apart and Luke was starting to tremble, and Michael felt _numb_ now which was probably the only reason he could even _talk_ anymore. “He… he _raped_ him, Lukey. I’m so sorry.” Luke started to cry and Michael felt his eyes prickling painfully again. “I couldn’t get there in time. It was already too late.”

Luke’s sobs were painful to listen to and Michael’s tears were boiling as they coursed down his cheeks, stinging his burst lip and making him flinch when he felt the blood drying in streaks where he’d smeared it with the back of his hand. Ashton was swaying now, barely even present as his bitten lips parted in another wordless cry of pain.

“Oh my god,” Luke cried brokenly, cuddling the smaller boy tighter as he hid his tears in Ashton’s curls. “Ash, no, no, _no_.”

Michael didn’t know what to do. He felt close to sober now and the painful silence that followed as a cold wind began to pick up was the only thing that gave him the strength to shakily point out that they needed to get to a hospital.

Ashton and Luke were just holding each other now, arms wrapped tight as they anchored themselves against the night, and watching their closeness made Michael think inexplicably of Calum for just a moment; of Calum with his chocolate eyes beneath the shadowy trees in a world that felt a million lightyears from here tonight.

Michael took a hesitant step away when he heard Luke clearly trying to distract Ashton by explaining that he was living with his aunt now because it was making the red-haired boy feel like he was intruding. Ashton choked on another sob, whispering that he was sorry but Michael didn’t even know what _for_ except… except Ashton was still crying and Luke’s jaw was set like he was fighting to hold it together too, and Michael sat down on a low stone wall nearby wearily as his breath rasped out of him in a heavy sigh.

It broke the silence that had fallen and Luke looked up at the older boy with sore red eyes before his arm tightened around the smaller boy’s waist, leading Ashton gently over to Michael with jerky movements that made him look like a broken puppet.

Ashton leant heavily against Michael when Luke reached to get his mobile from his pocket and the blond boy’s hands were shaking badly as he called a taxi, his voice quavering and weak as he quietly explained their whereabouts and let out a relieved sigh when they said they’d be there in twenty minutes.

Michael just sat there numbly as Luke moved closer too, trying to keep Ashton warm and safe between them as the darkness pressed in closer, the enormity of what had just happened beginning to sink in and leaving them _reeling_.

Ashton was totally silent now but the tears were still falling relentlessly down his cheeks and it was terrifying Michael more than he could put into words because Michael had seen Ashton having panic attacks _hundreds_ of times before; had seen the unpredictable rage, the fast talking and stammering as he choked on his words; the trembling of his hands as his cheeks flushed red with blood... but it was different this time. Worse.

Instead of what Michael had grown to expect, Ashton had gone very, _very_ pale and he wasn't speaking at all; just sitting rigidly between Michael and Luke on the low stone wall as he stared out blankly into the shadows, his body shuddering as his glassy stare sent Michael's blood running cold in his veins.

The taxi arrived before Michael plucked up the courage to speak and the suffocating silence of outside followed them into the car as they sped towards the hospital. The building was shining out of the darkness and Michael felt himself relaxing fractionally because, everything else aside, _Graham_ was inside and… and Graham meant safety and calmness and **love**.

Graham would help fix this.

Michael was sure of it.

He went in ahead of Luke and Ashton, only becoming aware of just how gross he must look - covered in blood and dirt and what _might_ have been Ashton’s sick - when he crossed the reception area, heading shakily towards the desk.

The receptionist looked up in surprise but her expression quickly became worried when she looked past Michael, spotting Luke leading Ashton in carefully. The curly-haired boy’s clothes were noticeably torn in the unforgiving light and he looked like a strong breeze could knock him over now. Michael’s voice sounded strangled when he quietly explained what had happened and the receptionist’s expression was deeply unhappy as she dialled a number on the phone, asking for assistance.

The rest of the night passed in a painful blur that Michael’s exhausted, agonised mind could barely make sense of.

Luke and Ashton disappeared off with a nurse fairly quickly, leaving Michael to sit alone in one of the hospital’s main waiting rooms as he waited for Graham to finish his shift. It took long enough that the slivers of sky he could see through the blinds were gradually lightening and he jerked in surprise when he felt his phone vibrating with a text, his body slumping with relief when he saw that it was a text from Luke explaining that the pair of them were safely back at Ashton’s now.

Michael was still wound so tightly that his muscles were starting to ache and all of the sitting around had him feeling like he was waiting for something _else_ to happen, adrenaline still coursing through his bloodstream like electricity as his hands shook, his palms scraped where he’d been clawing at them as his heart clenched painfully in his chest.

When Graham showed up in the doorway at almost five in the morning, he looked like he’d been close to tearing his hair out with stress. He was still dressed in his scrubs and his hands were shaking as he fell into the seat beside Michael, opening his arms and huffing out a breath when his nephew clung to him tightly.

“Gray,” Michael croaked and Graham’s breath caught in his throat as he drew back a little, cradling Michael’s cheek in his palm as he took in the strained expression on his nephew’s blood-stained face.

“Oh, Mikey, mate,” Graham murmured, his eyes swimming with tears. “What happened? You only said that Ashton got hurt -”

“He...” Michael’s voice trailed away for a moment but, honestly, what was one more time? It didn’t matter that every time he spoke felt like a knife twisting in his stomach; this didn’t even scratch the surface of how Ashton was feeling right now probably. “There was this… this man…” Michael looked up at Graham with hollow eyes. “He… he made him...”

Michael’s tears came without warning as the shock and adrenaline finally began to bleed out of him, and the words caught in his throat. He couldn’t speak them but, when Michael looked up at Graham with tears pooling in his desperate eyes as he shook his head helplessly, he could see in his uncle’s eyes that the nurse already knew.

“Oh, Mikey,” Graham repeated, his jaw square like he was trying to hold in his emotions as he helped his nephew up carefully. “On your feet, mate,” the older man said gently, his eyes worried as he wrapped his arm gently around Michael’s waist. “I’m gonna take you home, get you all cleaned up… and we’ll fix your face up for you too, okay?”

It felt so nice to let someone else take charge that Michael simply gave up, sinking down into the memories as Graham hurriedly led him out of the hospital, heading towards his car that was more than a little battered now that he’d been teaching his nephew to drive in it.

Michael didn’t remember much of the drive home; just that Graham kept the radio off and took the bends too fast, and Michael began to feel too hot and cramped, like the walls of the car were starting to press in on him, crushing the air out of his lungs.

Michael’s knuckles were cracked and sore where he’d punched the man in the alley, and his lip was throbbing dully as his breath caught painfully in his chest again. He almost wished the shock _hadn’t_ drained away because the panic was flooding back now as he remembered what had happened… as he remembered how he was just a little too slow… a little too late.

Michael’s skin felt itchy and disgusting now, and his panic was making him sweat and he wanted to douse himself in _bleach_ in an effort to wash away the memories of what had happened but… but they were too loud and vivid… far, _far_ too much.

Michael’s panic attack was as violent as it was unexpected and Graham wanted to stop the car but Michael wouldn’t let him, too exhausted and tightly-wound and fucking _filthy_ to even entertain thoughts of delaying going home now that they were so close.

Graham could barely concentrate on driving safely, let _alone_ comforting his nephew, and Michael was in such a state by the time they got home that he could barely see straight as he staggered upstairs, crumpling down onto his knees as he emptied his stomach in the toilet.

Michael was already trying to clean his teeth by the time Graham made it up the stairs, leaning heavily on the sink as he struggled to hold himself up, choking on the toothpaste and his heart-wrenching sobs. Graham was silent as he stood in the doorway, his face almost _grey_ with worry and fatigue as he watched his nephew in the mirror.

The toothbrush fell from Michael’s limp hand with a clatter against the tiles as his knees folded beneath him.

Graham caught him before he could fall, holding a weak Michael close as they sank down onto the floor together. Michael was sobbing silently now, struggling to catch his breath as Graham carded his fingers gently through his nephew’s hair, holding him close as his eyes prickled with tears.

Graham couldn’t help it when he murmured the words: “God, that could have been you” and Michael looked up at him with so many agonised emotions whirling in his emerald eyes that it was like staring into a storm.

“It wouldn’t have been,” Michael breathed, his voice so low that it didn’t have a chance to break as another tear ran down his cheek, tracing its way through the dirt and blood. “I’d seen that guy in there before, prowling around and -” Michael’s voice was just a little too high, wavering like it was about to crack as his eyes burnt again. “God,” the red-haired boy whispered and his eyes were swollen with how much he’d been crying. “God, god, god. I should have stopped him. I should have protected him!”

‘ _That should have been **me**._ ’

Graham’s face crumpled like he could tell what his nephew was thinking and he cuddled Michael closer because of it.

“You did the best you could, mate,” Graham whispered but Michael looked like his heart was tearing itself apart in his chest now and the nurse couldn’t quite stop his tears from falling.

“But it wasn’t enough!” Michael cried out, his voice weak and weary as his stomach churned sickeningly again. “I wasn’t good enough!”

Michael had left the light in the bathroom off when he’d ran in but the dawn light was just beginning to drift in through the frosted glass of the window, brightening the shadowy confines of the room as Michael curled - grey and defeated - in his uncle’s arms.

“This is _not_ your fault, Mike. Don’t think it is even for a moment. You don’t know what the guy would have done to Ash after he’d… _you don’t know_.” Graham’s eyes looked faintly desperate now but Michael was gazing up at him pleadingly, desperate for any comfort the nurse could give. “You might well have just saved your best friend’s life, okay?” Graham said weakly, his eyes wet and more sincere than Michael had ever seen them. “Just… don’t ever blame yourself for that, Mike, okay?”

All Michael could think of though was that night on the phone with Ashton… the way his voice had wobbled as he whispered: “It’s killing me.”

Michael’s terror seized him as he unwillingly considered the fact that maybe Ashton wouldn’t survive this but… god, Michael hoped he made it. He _prayed_ for it.

His tears were still falling, his sobs still choking him as he smeared blood into the mint green of Graham’s tunic. Michael’s trembling hand fisted in it and the nurse stroked his hair back gently as he leant heavily against the bathtub, cuddling the red-haired boy securely to his chest.

“Please,” Graham whispered but Michael didn’t even know what his uncle was begging for anymore and he stayed silent… felt more lost than he ever had in his short life.

Graham just held Michael closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Again, I'm honestly so sorry for how long it took.  
> Please let me know what you thought! <3


	73. Countless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“Everything's changed,” Luke gasped out shakily. “It didn’t feel right not to tell you when… when everyone else already knew.”_  
>  _Calum felt a flash of hurt._  
>  _“What do you mean?” he asked weakly and Luke’s broad shoulders slumped like he couldn’t hold the weight he was carrying anymore. He looked as tired as Calum_ felt _._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Um... I'm sorry it's taken me so long. I feel even more unstable and shitty than usual so I just haven't been working on any of my fics really, and I'm so sorry about that. I still feel crap now but it's been way too long and I didn't want to make you all wait any longer. I'm sorry if this is awful but honestly I just needed to write something before I never did again.  
> I hope you guys don't hate it.
> 
> Trigger warning for mention of rape/sexual assault.

**_Bad news like a sucker punch blew me away._ **

**_People fill the streets like nothing has changed._ **

**_Clock hands tick along; they don’t look the same._ **

**_Planes fly overhead like any old day._ **

_\- Bad News, Bastille_

 

Calum’s evening had been slow at best. He’d spent most of it running himself ragged on the beach, his breaths tearing out of him as his exhaustion crashed over him like the ocean. His thoughts had been a whirling mess; of Michael that day in the park telling him that he didn’t really love him; of the light in Ashley’s eyes going out as she told them what had happened to her; of the tears spilling over in Aleisha’s eyes when she told Calum that she knew _he_ cut too.

Calum had gone home with bruise-like circles staining the tanned skin under his empty eyes and nausea churning sickeningly in his stomach, and it had been the simplest thing in the world to sink down onto his knees before the toilet and empty his stomach as his fingernails clawed uselessly at his thigh, pressing bruisingly hard over the **PERFECT** he’d cut searingly into his skin so many months before.

Calum’s parents were out somewhere having dinner with one of David’s colleagues - and Calum was grateful for that because it meant Joy was spared at least a couple of hours of not being at risk of physical abuse - and Mali was out with Harry tonight, _far_  too busy to call.

Calum lay on his bed instead, staring up at the ceiling through glassy eyes as he pinched the bruised skin of his stomach harshly between his nails. His bedroom window was open and he could hear a dog barking somewhere in the neighbourhood, the soft laughter of his neighbours out in their garden drifting in on the breeze.

Calum wondered what Michael was doing now.

The dark-haired boy hadn’t spent any time with his friends at all recently. Michael hadn’t shown up to school and Ashton had only come in once, grey-faced and limping before he left hours early, apparently unable to stand being spoken to or touched. Ashley was still being distant too - and Calum couldn’t blame her because telling them what had happened to her must have been _terrifying_ but that didn’t change that he just wanted to be there for her - and being with Aleisha hurt too much right now. It was all a tangled mess but the result of it was that Calum was all alone.

Again.

When it reached nine o’clock, Calum finally grew tired of lying there feeling his stomach twisting itself into knots and he pulled his laptop over towards him. The duvet was screwed up uncomfortably beneath him and his bones were aching where they were pressing painfully into the wall behind him. His breath rasped out of him shakily as he stared blankly at his home screen.

There was nothing to do. He had no motivation to even open a YouTube video or something and the utter _flatness_ Calum could feel was making him feel sick again.

A chime sounded and Calum’s tired gaze flickered to the notification that had just appeared onscreen. It was an incoming skype call from Luke and, frowning vaguely as Calum pushed himself into a clumsy sitting position, he hit answer.

The blond boy was sitting slumped in an unfamiliar setting, wearing what looked like one of Ashton’s hoodies. His soft blue eyes were red-rimmed and his hair was sticking up uncharacteristically like he’d been running his fingers through it.

“Hey, Cal,” Luke said softly, his voice cracking. He drew his fist across his sore eyes hard and Calum swallowed as the awareness that something was _wrong_ slowly began to dawn on him.

“Luke?” Calum leant closer to the screen, his frown deepening when he saw the blond boy glancing warily over his shoulder. “Are you okay? What’s -”

“Ash is sleeping,” Luke said quietly. A tear rolled down his cheek and Calum’s anxiety grew. “We - he moved in with me after - after he -” The blond boy choked on his words and Calum’s heart was thumping unevenly in his chest now because what the hell was Luke _talking_ about? What had _happened_?

“Lukey, why’re you crying?” Calum asked weakly, knotting his trembling hands in his lap. “Tell me what's going on, okay? Start at the beginning.”

Luke did as he was asked.

The tears didn’t stop falling down his face but he spoke, explaining that Ashton had called the social workers and told them everything about the blond boy's home life, resulting in Luke having to move in with his aunt Sharon and her giant ginger cat Shelly. Calum was bemused at best because, while the upheaval must have been very difficult for Luke, it seemed like it must have been a _relief_ not to have to worry about getting hurt anymore.

“That still doesn’t explain why Ash is…” Calum’s voice trailed away and he bit his bottom lip hard, worrying it between his teeth. “Is this why he was acting so weird when he came into school for a few hours on Monday?” Calum asked slowly, watching the pain unfolding on Luke’s face with growing horror. “Did something happen to him over the weekend? And how are you guys together now? Wait, did you say he _moved in_ with you? I thought -”

Luke pressed his lips together wordlessly, ducking his head as more tears burnt down his cheeks.

“Everything's changed,” Luke gasped out shakily. “It didn’t feel right not to tell you when… when everyone else already knew.”

Calum felt a flash of hurt at that but he told himself he was being stupid. He knew Michael and Ashton hung out alone sometimes, and that was hardly surprising with things the way they were between the red-haired boy and Calum.

“What do you mean?” he asked weakly and Luke’s broad shoulders slumped like he couldn’t hold the weight he was carrying anymore. He looked as tired as Calum _felt_.

“Mikey and Ash went clubbing and… there was this guy. This weird fucking guy and… and he’d been hitting on Ashton but Mike was doing his best to keep him away but… but he took his eyes off Ash for a minute. Just a _minute_ and… and then it was too late.”

“ _Luke_ ,” Calum said and his voice was tight with what was well on the way to becoming raw panic. “Luke, what are you talking about?”

“Ash got raped,” Luke choked out and he looked broken now as a sob tore out of him. Calum covered his mouth with trembling hands, chocolate brown eyes wide with panic as he struggled to make sense of what Luke was telling him.

Calum’s panic was expanding rapidly inside him like an explosion and he needed Luke to distract him from how much he felt like he was about to _lose_ it because… _god_... because that was a horror story you saw in the news or read about in magazines. It wasn’t something that happened to his _best friend_.

Except it already had, hadn’t it?

To Ashton. To Ashley. Probably to countless other people that would never trust Calum enough to tell him the truth.

His breath was coming quick and fast now, and the only thing he could calm himself with was that he had seen Ashton since and he was okay; he was  _alive_.

Luke saw the devastation and shock on Calum’s face, and his blue eyes grew more watery than ever as he quietly explained what had happened that evening: seeing Graham at the hospital, the night he spent at Ashton’s, getting kicked out of the house by Ashton’s homophobic grandfather, and how they were staying with Sharon together now, because neither of them had anywhere else to go.

Calum’s tears fell thick and fast but his heart was slowly calming in his chest when Luke looked back over his shoulder lovingly to check on the poor curly-haired boy.

_Ashton would be okay. He would be **safe** now. Luke would make sure of it._

Calum wiped his eyes hard with his sleeve, resting his shaking palm open on the screen because he was too far away to comfort Luke now, in more ways than one, but that didn't mean he didn't wish things were different.

“I can’t believe this happened to him,” Calum breathed and Luke’s eyes fell shut as he squared his jaw, struggling not to cry again.

“I just thought you should know,” the blond boy said again and the lump in Calum’s throat tried to choke him as he struggled for the words that might extinguish the pain from Luke’s face, even for a few moments.

“What’s it like living with Sharon?” Calum asked with just a hint of desperation. “How is she?”

“She’s… interesting,” Luke said and, although he wasn’t smiling, there were no fresh tears either. He looked _touched_ , and Calum resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands and sob. “She’s eccentric but she’s kind and… and she cares about us. Ashton will be safe here.”

Something steely entered Luke’s eyes and Calum realised then that Luke would never let someone touch Ashton again, and Calum figured that if there _was_ a silver lining to this horrific situation, it had to be that Luke and Ashton seemed to have finally realised that they couldn’t live without each other anymore.

“Michael never said anything to me,” Calum whispered but, to the older boy’s surprise, Luke went to the red-haired boy’s defence. It was odd because Calum was fairly certain the pair of them didn’t exactly see eye to eye but maybe that had changed now. Calum seemed to have missed a _lot_.

“Mikey was trying so hard to hold it together for me and Ash after… after it happened,” Luke said shakily. “Y’know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was losing it quite badly himself now.” The blond boy’s tone was regretful and his words sent Calum’s heart racing painfully in his chest. “We haven’t been able to get in contact with him. No one’s heard from him this whole time.”

Calum’s hands were shaking as he curled them into fists but all he could think was that maybe it was _Michael’s_ turn to be comforted now. Maybe he needed a friend, even if he didn’t think so himself… even if he _didn’t_ believe that Calum cared about him anymore.

“Thank you for telling me, Luke, but I think I have to go now,” Calum said shakily, staring out of his window into the darkness beyond. Michael didn’t live nearby anymore but that wouldn’t deter him.

Calum was going to go and visit him, and he was going to do it sooner rather than later.

Michael needed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Again, I'm sorry this is absolutely not my best.  
> Please let me know what you thought.  
> Hope you're all okay <3


	74. Nothing But The Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Michael’s lips brushed Calum’s curls and the dark-haired boy shifted, his cheeks warming with blood as he pressed just a little bit closer to the older boy, and Michael realised in that moment just how easy it would be to take things further with Calum today._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry. This is just really horrible.
> 
> I want to put a trigger warning for this chapter but I’m not sure what it would be? Basically, it’s not dub-con exactly but there’s definitely elements of it in this as well as ‘loss of virginity’ because I know I find this a triggering topic so I just want to make sure you all stay safe (so if you have any suggestions of tags to use once you’ve read this, please let me know).  
> I'm sorry for the wait too but I was reading back over Tempest to get back into the story again so I really hope I did it justice!  
> I hope you’ll all enjoy this!
> 
> (Also if anyone gets the nerdy reference I’m making with this chapter title, I’ll bake you cookies. Promise.)

**_I'm thinking it over,_ **

**_The way you make me feel all sexy but it's causing me shame._ **

**_I wanna lean on your shoulder._ **

**_I wish I was in love but I don't wanna cause any pain,_ **

**_And if I'm feeling like I'm evil, we've got nothing to gain._ **

_\- Waiting Game, Banks_

 

After Calum had ended the skype call with Luke, he had been too emotionally drained to venture out into the darkness to find Michael. Calum stayed lying curled up on his bed instead, staring blankly at the wallpaper in his bedroom as it slowly began to peel, head reeling with everything he’d learnt.

Calum passed out sometime around eleven, too exhausted to even purge when it was all he could do to desperately scrape enough oxygen into his aching lungs.

Calum woke up early on Saturday morning feeling raw and vulnerable but considerably _lighter_ too - just like he’d always been praying for. He got dressed quietly and left his bedroom at seven, heading downstairs to turn the kettle on as he was aware that Joy would be up soon enough to start cleaning and preparing David’s breakfast.

Calum poured them both a mug of peppermint tea and carried them over to the breakfast bar to wait for her, and he was glad he’d done it when she walked into the kitchen and found him waiting there. Her whole face lit up, even as her chocolate brown eyes grew damp and sparkling with what might have been tears, and Calum’s breath huffed out of him when she drew him into a tight hug.

Her hand settled on his ribs unthinkingly and Calum shifted, a little uneasy but so desperate for contact after the news of Ashton the night before that he didn’t pull away from her for once.

“Any plans for today, Calum?” Joy asked as she pulled her mug gratefully towards her, warming her hands on it. She was dressed in a black silky dressing gown over her pyjamas and the bruise on her cheekbone was fading to yellow. Calum wanted her to leave her husband and head somewhere safe so, _so_ badly that it made him breathless.

“I… I think I’m going to try and see Michael,” Calum said and he bit his full bottom lip when his voice wobbled unevenly. He was trying _so_ hard not to think of that day in the park – Michael hadn’t meant what he said; he _couldn’t_ have done or why would he be hurting so much? - but it was easier said than done.

All Calum could see was that dull fire burning in Michael’s agonised eyes as the bleak day around them became blurry behind the dark-haired boy’s tears.

Calum ducked his head, cheeks heating as he stared into the depths of his tea. The steam was rising and clouding his vision, and Luke’s words from the previous evening made themselves apparent as Calum let his thoughts drift, making the dark-haired boy wince visibly as he recalled them: ‘ _Mikey was trying so hard to hold it together for me and Ash after it happened. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was losing it quite badly himself now._ ’

“You haven’t mentioned Michael in a little while,” Joy said, frowning faintly as she began to sort David’s breakfast. “I wasn’t sure you two were still… close.” Her tone was delicate at best and Calum kept his gaze fixed on his tea, not liking the hesitation in her voice as she clearly mulled over whatever else she wanted to say. “You know, I had hoped that you might want to bring Violet round to meet us at some point. It would be nice to meet the girl you’ve been spending so much time with.”

Calum cringed, glad Joy had turned away as he picked idly at the scrape on his knuckle that seemed to grow worse every time he looked at it. Calum made a private decision to stop using Violet as an excuse when he went out for long walks in the evenings. Lying to his mother now left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Mum, I’m probably going to head out pretty soon,” Calum said in lieu of answering. “Things to do, y’know.”

“Of course,” she said, trying not to look crestfallen. “Well… this was nice, Calum. Thank you for the tea. We should sit together again sometime.” Joy turned to face him, leaning back against the counter as she folded her arms gently across her chest. “Are you sure I can’t make you any breakfast first?”

“ _No_ ,” Calum said, the word too sharp and fast to come across as casual. Joy’s expression became worried and Calum’s eyes narrowed fractionally. “I thought we weren’t going to mention this again, mum.” Calum felt horrible for saying it, for adopting that knowing, condescending tone that David used sometimes but Calum _couldn’t_ talk about this with her.

It was too much, he was too raw, and it was too painful.

“Have fun today then,” Joy said, voice thick with something that sounded a lot like pain as she turned away again. Calum left his half-empty tea cooling on the counter as he backed towards the front door. “Stay safe.”

It was much too early to go and visit Michael now. The red-haired boy would most likely still be asleep for hours yet and Graham would probably be there too which Calum didn’t want - they definitely didn’t need an audience for their first proper meeting since that day in the park. Calum was sick with enough worry as it was and he hardly wanted to make that any worse.

He settled for walking the streets instead, pacing around the neighbourhood and visiting his usual corner shop for a pack of cigarettes and some new lighters. Calum headed for the beach afterwards, hands buried deep in the pockets of his too-loose skinny jeans - mostly to keep them from falling down because, even with his belt on, they were still barely staying up which made _no_ sense – but also to hide how much they were trembling.

Calum stopped when he reached the pebbles, digging his faded Vans into the damp stones as he gazed out unseeingly into the grey ocean, watching the foam crashing against the beach as the waves crested. The dark-haired boy eased his phone out of his pocket with shaking fingers, wincing when it made the cuts on his thigh ache as he opened a message to Michael.

**[To MIKEY] Sent at 09:13**

**I know what happened to Ash. Can I come see you please? I think we need to talk.**

Surprisingly, Michael’s reply was almost immediate, the vaguely frantic yes with various spelling mistakes reminding Calum unpleasantly of that night when Ashton had texted him in the midst of a panic attack. That seemed like another lifetime ago now and Calum’s heart was leaden in his chest as he started the long walk to Graham’s house.

He was ashamed of the fear brewing inside him but it wasn’t potent enough to hide the hope he could feel bubbling there too, disquieting and terrifying but almost… _good_. Calum hadn’t felt anything good in such a long time.

He made it to Graham’s house in just over twenty minutes and some of the tension eased out of his shoulders when he saw that the driveway was empty. Michael’s curtains twitched overhead and Calum jerked his head up just in time to see Michael’s pale face vanishing, presumably as the older boy hurried downstairs to let him in.

Calum’s hands fell out of his pockets to hang limply by his sides and he swallowed, trying to pretend that his heart _wasn’t_ about to pound right out of his chest. Michael had tried to cut it out of the dark-haired boy’s ribcage the last time they’d spoken but… but Calum didn’t think he’d meant it; couldn’t _let_ himself think that Michael had meant it.

Why would the red-haired boy have agreed to see him otherwise?

“Why _did_ you?” Calum breathed, his voice thick with the lump rising in his throat, his tired eyes burning as he heard the scrape of a key turning in the lock and then -

 **Michael**.

His red hair was limp and tangled, growing longer now and showing the darker roots that mirrored the stubble on his jaw. His emerald eyes were dull and exhausted, and the circles bruising the skin under his eyes looked like they were never going to fade away. His cherry-red lips were bitten raw and his nails were cut so short that his sore fingertips were worryingly inflamed and… and he was still beautiful.

He was still heartrendingly, breathtakingly, _agonisingly_ beautiful… and Calum still loved him.

God, Calum had never _stopped_ loving him.

“ _Shit_ , Calum,” Michael murmured and then Calum was being gathered up into the older boy’s arms, squeezed tight to Michael’s broad chest, and all Calum could smell was Michael - coconut shampoo, chocolate, coffee, laundry detergent, talcum powder - and his tears were choking him as he twisted his trembling fingers tightly in the back of the Star Wars t-shirt Michael had presumably been sleeping in.

‘ _Fuck, I love you_ ,’ Calum thought and it didn’t shake him to the core anymore. It didn’t scare him at _all_ and maybe that was the most terrifying part of this.

Calum thought again of what Michael had said on that bleak day in the park - ‘ _I’m not the person you need, Cal. You deserve someone who can **love** you._ ’ - and, as Michael held him even closer, Calum realised he didn’t care if those words were true anymore. He didn’t give a _fuck_ because if that was the case then it was just as Calum had always feared anyway so he figured nothing had even _changed_.

Calum would still do anything in his power to make Michael feel better. He’d still do anything he could to try to fix this.

Michael drew back slowly and Calum was shocked to see the tears brimming in the older boy’s red eyes for a moment before Calum remembered why he’d come here. Then the guilt rushed over him like a tidal wave and his knees weakened as his stomach twisted painfully.

“Ashton -” Calum began faintly, not even able to properly formulate a response now because, gazing up into Michael’s tormented eyes and seeing the guilt there, Calum knew none of his words would ever be enough.

“I was going to tell you,” Michael said needlessly with his tears still falling thick and fast but Calum just shook his head, his eyes kind and damp as he sniffed hard to keep from crying.

“You did everything you could,” the dark-haired boy said softly. “Luke told me. He told me what you did and… and _fuck_ , Mikey, you were so brave.” Somehow Calum’s palm had ended up resting on Michael’s flushed cheek and the red-haired boy leant into it, his eyes falling shut hopelessly as another tear trickled down his flushed cheek.

“You’re brave,” Calum whispered again and Michael’s lips twitched weakly at the corners but his eyes stayed shut.

“I’m a coward, Cal,” he said but he refused to elaborate as to why. Michael just tugged Calum into the house gently by the hand instead, his face softening when Calum shut the door carefully behind them and eased his Vans off, leaving them lined up neatly beside Michael’s boots in the hallway.

“Wanna come upstairs?” Michael asked, his tone slightly awkward, and Calum felt that strange sense of foreboding again as the red-haired boy tangled their fingers together firmly, like maybe he badly needed the comfort. Calum wanted to raise Michael’s hand and kiss his knuckles but he settled for squeezing it reassuringly instead, showing Michael he wasn’t alone in his pain.

Calum told Michael about how Luke and Ashton had moved in with the blond boy’s aunt as he followed him up the stairs but Michael was distracted, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion as Calum eased past him to lean uncomfortably against the older boy’s desk. Michael let himself fall back onto the bed, arms stretched out as he gazed up unseeingly at the dark ceiling, his breath coming too fast in his distress.

“I… I wasn’t expecting you to say yes,” Calum said suddenly, giving a tiny awkward laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. When Michael looked confused, Calum quietly amended: “Me coming round here. I… I didn’t think you’d want me after… well, you know.”

“I know,” Michael whispered, closing his eyes for a moment. The older boy’s heart felt raw in his chest - with concern, with love, with _pain_ \- and fresh tears threatened when he let himself look at Calum again, taking in the shadows in his face, the sharp cut of his cheekbones and the unforgiving line of his jaw that had never been visible before. Michael’s concern grew as he recalled how close they’d come to losing Ashton and, looking at Calum now, Michael knew full well that they weren’t out of the woods yet.

‘ _You’re a fool_ ,’ he thought to himself bitterly as he opened his arms for the dark-haired boy. ‘ _And Calum is too precious for words._ ’

Michael couldn’t believe Calum still trusted him even after all of the pain the red-haired boy had caused but he was glad of it. Calum’s head fit perfectly beneath Michael’s chin, his dark curls tickling the underside of the older boy’s jaw as Michael stroked Calum’s back soothingly through the oversized jumper he was wearing, tracing the vertebrae in his spine with worrying ease.

Michael’s lips brushed Calum’s curls and the dark-haired boy shifted, his cheeks warming with blood as he pressed just a little bit closer to the older boy, and Michael realised in that moment just how easy it would be to take things further with Calum today.

The younger boy was clearly willing to forgive him and both of them seemed to be craving the contact. All he had to do was kiss him and Michael knew the rest would follow… but that would probably be a bad idea. There was a _reason_ he had told Calum that they couldn’t do this again - because the younger boy deserved _better_ ; they _both_ did - but Michael was finding that quite hard to grasp now… In fact, he was finding it impossible.

Calum closed his eyes when Michael tilted his head back gently to kiss him. A contented sigh escaped the younger boy’s lips and Michael groaned softly, his fingers winding into Calum’s dark curls as he settled down over him on the rumpled sheets, pressing Calum back into the mattress.

Michael’s body was warm above his and Calum let himself relax beneath him, fighting to ignore the little niggle of worry that was slowly forming in the pit of his empty stomach as his lips parted against Michael’s.

Things felt different between them this time - like they were nearing the end, rushing forwards like shooting stars that were about to burn out - and it felt scary and final, like what happened to Ashton had made them both feel _mortal_ , and the thought had barely crossed Calum’s mind before he registered how hungry their kisses had become as Michael grinded down against him.

The desperate whine that escaped Calum startled him and his vaguely panicked: “ _Mikey_ ” was met only by the red-haired boy breathlessly reassuring him that his uncle was out as Michael sucked kisses into Calum’s neck, bruising the sensitive skin there.

The dark-haired boy was restless as his trembling hands settled on Michael’s back, gripping the thick muscle of the older boy’s shoulders too tightly in his grip as Michael’s thigh slipped between Calum’s, anchoring him there.

It made the younger boy’s head swim with more dizziness than usual as he sank back helplessly into the pillows, dragging Michael closer to him even as his chest tightened with something too painful to name.

It was strange but Calum hadn’t even been touching _himself_ lately - he’d felt too disgusted and exhausted, and utterly lacking the drive - but it wasn’t the same now. There was need rippling through him instead, burning inside him almost like anxiety as he realised how _different_ things felt today. How raw.

Abruptly, it became too much.

“ _Cal_ ,” Michael breathed suddenly and Calum didn’t realise he was crying too until he felt his tears mingling with Michael’s on his cheeks as the older boy’s fingers smeared them there. They were painfully hard against each other now and Calum’s breath kept catching in his throat as Michael pressed closer in the dark bedroom, tugging ineffectually at the belt still struggling to hold Calum’s jeans in place. The younger boy’s hands fell to his belt buckle and Michael tugged his own shirt off over his head. Calum batted Michael’s hands away when they skirted the hem of his jumper but Michael just surged back in for another hungry kiss that the younger boy lost himself in.

‘ _Can’t lose him,_ ’ Calum thought desperately. ‘ _Can’t lose Michael. **Can’t**._ ’

“Can we -” Michael began but Calum didn’t even let him finish the sentence, already nodding jerkily.

“Anything,” Calum gasped unthinkingly, trusting Michael not to ask more of him than he could give… god, always trusting his oldest best friend no matter what.

“All the way,” Michael pleaded in a low voice and… fuck, Calum would be lying if he said his heart didn’t clench with something like fear when he heard those words because… god, Michael had done this with countless people before but the only person Calum had ever even properly _touched_ was his best friend and he wasn’t sure he was ready but, hell, maybe he never _would_ be ready for this.

He’d do it though. God, Calum would do _anything_ for Michael.

The red-haired boy always came before he did.

Calum was nodding before he could think better of it, grateful for the darkness of the room and the duvet he managed to feebly tug over them when Michael reached for the lube, still choking on his tears like this was the only thing he could focus on if he wasn’t going to fall apart.

Calum wasn’t stupid. He _knew_ how fucked up this was - knew it wasn’t going to end well probably - but… god, Michael actually _wanted_ him right now and that was all Calum could ever ask for.

“Do it,” the dark-haired boy gasped out when Michael hesitated but then the red-haired boy was slicking his fingers up and easing the first one inside, and Calum went rigid against him. It hurt a lot more today, maybe because he was more wary, maybe because Michael was rushing a little bit, and Calum wanted this so much but he was so _afraid_.

The room was very, _very_ dark with the curtains shut but he could just about make out the pleasure-pain saturating Michael’s tear-streaked face in the shadows as he slid in two more fingers, the stinging stretch making Calum’s neglected cock leak between them. Michael’s hair was soft between Calum’s fingers but the younger boy’s breath was coming painfully now as Michael’s weight pressed him back into the mattress, and Michael was giving him the chance to say no now but Calum’s words had dried up in his throat and he couldn’t find his voice anymore.

“Nobody has to know,” Michael said when it became clear that the younger boy wasn’t going to speak and a light went out in Calum’s eyes as he closed them hard against the sudden onslaught of tears.

He was almost certain this was a mistake now but he was still pulling Michael closer, still clinging onto his shoulders with an unbreakable grip as he shuddered around the awful emptiness when Michael carefully withdrew his fingers. The red-haired boy brushed his lips gently against Calum’s forehead and the younger boy barely had time to process Michael’s mumbled reassurance before the red-haired boy was rocking forwards to fill the younger boy with his cock and… and something slipped behind Calum’s eyes.

Something jarred and suddenly the love in Calum’s chest was so painful that it took his breath away, tearing into his hollow lungs as Michael opened him up, and Calum was still crying and whispering “Yes, yes, yes” under his breath but the cuts on his thighs were bleeding where they were hidden beneath the duvet and the spark of _something_ in Calum’s chest was like a fire kindling inside him now, reminding him of how much he’d lost since they’d last been together… reminding him of what it felt like to be _whole_.

Calum flung his head back into the pillows, eyes squeezed tightly shut as Michael struggled not to move over him, and Calum’s hips were jerking now and his breath was rasping out of his lungs embarrassingly loudly, and Michael was stroking his hair back from his sweaty forehead and brushing kisses over Calum’s cheeks but the younger boy was too overwhelmed to appreciate it.

The things was, it actually _hurt_ and Calum knew logically that it wouldn’t ache so badly if he could just force himself to relax but it wasn’t possible when he was so focused on digging his fingertips into Michael’s shoulders as he pulled him desperately closer.

Calum knew they were only doing this right now was because Michael needed the comfort – needed to feel grounded and _safe_ – and Calum felt sick with himself when he realised that this was the only reason he was even letting Michael fuck him because… god, he wasn’t ready to go all the way with _anyone_ yet, let alone someone who didn’t love him or even want to tell anyone this had happened.

Michael wasn’t shy about the people he hooked up with at school or clubs and it made Calum feel sick that he wasn’t in that category, even as he pulled Michael closer and buried his tears in the older boy’s shoulder, whining as his hips jerked when Michael’s teeth scraped over his throat, hard enough to bruise.

Calum had never felt this overwhelmed before and the little gasping breaths escaping him were embarrassing as Michael’s hips rocked against his again and again, filling Calum up as the burn slowly started to recede, leaving only pleasure behind.

Calum’s tears didn’t stop falling though and the pain in his chest was burning hot – like magnesium blazing bright enough to blind – and Calum was crying so much he couldn’t breathe properly now because he wanted this so _much_ , couldn’t cope with how empty he knew he was going to feel afterwards because… god, because Michael made him feel _whole_ again – made him _forget_ – and it was so dark in the room and Calum was trying to convince himself that it didn’t count – that it didn’t matter – because _nothing_ that happened in the dark ever did but… but Calum thought it might matter more than almost anything in the world.

“ _Calum_ ,” Michael gasped out, pale hand falling to curl around the younger boy’s cock, cherry-red lips bitten raw as his hips started to lose their rhythm. “Cal, fuck, _please_.”

Calum didn’t know what Michael was asking him for anymore. The headboard was slamming against the wall and the heat in Calum’s stomach was coiling so tightly that it hurt, and Michael must need something else from him but Calum didn’t know what it might be.

He had nothing else to give.

Calum’s climax hit him hard and unexpectedly, like a force of nature tearing apart all of his delicate foundations and leaving him quaking in its wake, fingernails biting into Michael’s pale skin as Calum shuddered apart beneath him.

Michael’s moan was broken as he bit into Calum’s shoulder through his jumper and the dark-haired boy’s curls were sticking to his forehead with sweat now, his mouth swollen and his eyes too bright as Michael fucked in desperately, biting his own lip hard enough to draw blood as he came with a soft cry.

Michael slumped down on top of Calum, tucking his face away into the younger boy’s neck as his body shivered through the aftershocks. Calum stroked Michael’s limp red hair gently but his eyes were glazed with tears and he didn’t know how to break the silence that was slowly settling between them. There was something dark unfurling in Calum’s chest as he became aware of the ache between his legs and the younger boy squeezed his eyes tightly shut, fighting against tears.

“Oh,” Michael whispered and his green eyes looked stunned as he pushed himself up into a shaky sitting position. “Oh, fuck, Calum, no. What did we…? _What_?”

Michael’s face was almost grey now and Calum wondered if Michael realised this had been a mistake too, the thought just jarring enough that Calum couldn’t quite keep all of his tears in.

Michael lurched up from the bed in an unexpectedly startling movement, catching his elbow on the doorframe as he looked back at Calum over his shoulder, desperation etched painfully into his face as he half-fell into the bathroom.

Calum didn’t know what to do.

He was still lying there, twisted up in the damp sheets in just his jumper. His jeans and boxers had been thrown somewhere in the darkness and, almost unbidden, Calum’s trembling fingertips found the **PERFECT** scarring his thigh. Calum shuddered when he touched it, thought again of his mum telling him to stay safe before he left the house that morning.

Calum wondered what she’d have to say about this.

Through the closed door of the bathroom, Calum could just about make out the sound of Michael being sick and it sent a thrill of dread shivering through the younger boy. He rose shakily, wincing at the slight burning pain as he searched for his clothes in the darkness. He felt dirty and _wrong_ , and suddenly Michael being sick didn’t seem so surprising because the nausea rising inside Calum was shocking.

He walked downstairs slowly, felt the subtle ache and knew he wouldn’t be able to forget this in a hurry. Calum’s eyelashes were spiky with tears when he searched through the kitchen cupboards for paracetamol and an empty glass that he could fill with water. Calum carried them back upstairs, leaving them on Michael’s bedside table, and then he quietly left.

His Vans slapped softly on the damp pavement and Calum’s fingers itched for a cigarette but he was saving them, felt too lost up in his cloudy head right now to appreciate one.

It was beginning to rain now and Calum didn’t even know if he was crying anymore as he trudged along, feeling more empty and drained than he could ever remember feeling.

Maybe he wasn’t crying after all. Maybe it was nothing but the rain instead.

Joy was preparing lunch in the kitchen when Calum got home and she looked startled when he drifted in through the front door, hair plastered to his skull as bone-deep trembles shuddered through him. He was soaking wet and completely freezing, and her eyes were wide as she stared at him in shock.

“Calum?” she whispered, apparently unwilling to speak any louder which must mean David was in the house. “Calum, what happened? Are you okay?” She bit her lip worriedly. “I thought you were seeing Michael…”

Calum closed his eyes at the mention of the red-haired boy’s name, felt the ache and became aware of his shaking hands curling into fists.

“Michael got sick, mum,” Calum said mechanically, his voice _dead_ now. “So I had to come home.”

“Oh, well… that’s a shame.” Joy’s confusion was cutting Calum to the core and he wrapped his arms around himself tightly, fingertips pressing at the fresh cuts there viciously as he made them bead up with blood again.

“I’m going to go get changed,” Calum whispered and he was already turning away before she’d even answered. Calum kicked his shoes off and left them on the rack in the hall but that didn’t make any difference; he was still dripping mud and rainwater into the carpet all the way up the stairs.

Calum shut his bedroom door as carefully and quietly as he could, staring down blankly at his damp socks as he heard the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Calum withdrew the crumpled pack of cigarettes and his new lighters from his pocket, gazing at them for a moment before he sank down to lean against the door, withdrawing a red plastic lighter and tugging his sleeves back weakly.

Calum rolled his thumb over the metal wheel and the flame sputtered to life. The dark-haired boy watched it unseeingly, the fire reflected in his empty eyes as he sat there motionless before he brought it down to lick at his arm.

The painful ache inside him was getting worse.

The darkness had pierced his heart.

Calum wondered why nothing was ever easy anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought because I've had this planned for a while and I'm worried it's no good...


	75. Loving Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“What did you_ expect _to happen, babe?” the younger girl asked._  
>  _All Calum did was hang his head in shame as the hot tears rolled relentlessly down his cheeks._  
>  _"I don't know." Giving all of gimself to Michael hadn't kept the red-haired boy there. "I don't fucking know anymore."_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was cheerful. (Read: this was the angstiest thing ever because I feel terrible.)  
> I hope you guys will enjoy reading this!

**_I wanna come home to you,_ **

**_But home is just a room full of my safest sounds,_ **

**_‘Cause you know that I can’t trust myself with my 3AM shadow._ **

**_I’d rather fuel a fantasy than deal with this alone._ **

_\- Talk Me Down, Troye Sivan_

 

It had stopped raining by Sunday morning and Calum left the house in a daze. The air hung heavy with the scent of petrichor and the skin around his face felt strangely tight, swollen from how much he’d been crying over the last twenty four hours.

Calum still couldn’t believe it had happened; still couldn’t believe he’d been that close to Michael and almost lost himself in the process. ‘ _Stay safe_ ,’ Joy had said, and then Calum and Michael hadn’t even used a fucking condom. Calum felt sick with himself. He felt like someone had hit him over the head with a rock and left him to stagger home on his own.

Calum had been out of the house all day, just drifting around the quieter parts of town like a ghost as the soles of his Vans peeled and he wore himself to exhaustion. By early afternoon, the pain of Calum’s knotted stomach and the steady ache inside him became too much to handle. Calum came to a stumbling stop in the park that sprawled behind Ashley’s house, _far_ from the one he’d used to frequent with Michael back before the light was gone.

Calum sank down against the railings in the rain-wet grass, propping a cigarette between his lips before he eased a scrap of paper and the stub of a pencil out of his pocket. Calum lit up and inhaled deeply as he took the pencil in his shaking fingers, fighting for a calm he couldn’t feel anymore as he struggled not to fall apart.

Ever since Calum had left Michael’s house the day before, his thoughts had been a tornado in his head, his tears bullets from his eyes. The worst part was hiding it from his parents because how could he tell them that he was tearing himself to pieces over Michael when he was _supposed_ to be with Violet?

But Calum would never be with her… and maybe he’d never be with Michael either. Maybe he didn’t even _care_ anymore.

The pencil started scratching across the crumpled paper unbidden and Calum felt like he was watching someone else write as he watched the messy words scribble themselves over the page in front of him.

 

**_Tonight we're fading fast._ **

**_I just wanna make this last._ **

**_If I could say the things that I wanna say,_ **

**_I'd find a way to make you stay._ **

**_I'd never let you get away;_ **

**_Catch you in all the games we've played._ **

 

The sun was already beginning to set overhead, painting the sky a fiery orange as the breeze chilled Calum. He felt grey when he looked up for a moment, blinking the tears from his glassy eyes as he inhaled shakily again, cringing when the hot ash tumbled from the end of his cigarette and burnt his thigh. Calum brushed it away impatiently, smearing his hand in the wet grass for a moment to rid himself of the dull sting before he brought the pencil back to the paper again, gazing down and seeing only Michael.

 

**_So go ahead, rip my heart out._ **

**_Show me what love's all about._ **

**_Go ahead, rip my heart out._ **

**_That's what love's all about._ **

 

Calum closed his eyes as that last line soured in his mouth; bit his bottom lip hard and choked on his tears as everything he’d shared with Michael flickered behind his eyes like a flame: those long summer days as children that they whiled away in the sun together; Michael’s heavy green gaze in the changing room and the feeling of his eyes on Calum’s skin; that night at the park with Mali’s whiskey; ‘ _I don’t wanna be your friend. I wanna kiss your neck._ ’; drunken parties and searching hands, and: “ **I love you** ”; their almost-kiss under the apple tree in the park; clinging to each other at sleepovers because they were scared of the dark; tangling fingers and brushing lips, and the feeling of safety that thrummed warmly through Calum’s chest when Michael held him in his arms; _through it all_.

Calum thought of everything that made them **CalumAndMichael**. Everything that was _theirs_ – and then he did his best to let go of it.

Calum shuddered at the feeling of it plummeting inside his hollow chest like a stone but there was no way to hold onto it _and_ save himself… except maybe he didn’t even want to anymore.

Calum’s eyes stayed shut for a moment longer and the tears burnt his eyes more painfully than the cigarette smoke. The pencil was moving as Calum’s eyes fluttered open and the words were barely legible anymore but Calum could still see them; could still feel them cutting through his veins even more painfully than his hope had the previous day.

Calum wrote until there was nothing more to say.

 

**_I want you to want me this way,_ **

**_And I need you to need me to stay._ **

**_If you say that you don't feel a thing;_ **

**_If you don't know,_ **

**_Let me go._ **

 

The paper slipped through Calum’s fingers to land in the wet grass and he watched the rainwater still clinging to the blades soaking through, making the words indecipherable. It hurt Calum in strange ways and he drew his knees up to his chest tightly, wrapping one sore arm around them as he held what was left of his cigarette between his fingers.

Calum stared down at the cherry-red tip burning sullenly back at him and failed not to be reminded of Michael. Calum recalled Aleisha’s words for a moment – “I’m smoking to _die_ , Calum! Why won’t you fucking let me?” – and Calum felt sick with himself when he felt a tiny cold smile curving his lips.

He was going insane probably. His mind was fracturing like broken glass, like the surface of an icy lake slowly splintering beneath immense force… except it didn’t take immense force when the surface was already cracking. Then all it took was one wrong touch – no matter how gentle – to send everything plummeting beyond reach.

Calum felt like that now.

He was quite sure he was losing his mind and there was absolutely nothing he could do to fix it. He couldn’t save himself and he didn’t care about being perfect anymore, and there was nothing left to hold onto anymore so what was even the _point_?

The longer Calum sat slumped there, the more he started to realise that perhaps there _wasn’t_ one.

The death in his heart reared its ugly head with something like triumph and Calum didn’t try to fight it down. He just scooped the damp paper up from the grass and set fire to the edge of it where it was still dry, watching the words burn and blacken as the paper curled to ash.

Calum was still sitting there two hours later when Aleisha and Ashley showed up at the park.

There was a tightness to Aleisha’s expression that made Calum think she’d been looking for him for some time and, when he finally chanced a glance down at his phone to discover that it was almost out of battery, he grimaced when he saw all of the unread messages and missed calls.

“Gorgeous, where have you been?” Ashley asked gently when the girls reached him. Calum tipped his head back slowly to regard them and Aleisha winced at whatever she could see on Calum’s face. Ashley simply knelt down in front of him, eyeing the still-burning paper warily before her tired eyes settled on the younger boy’s face.

“You’re shaking,” Ashley said softly and Calum’s smile was flinty at best as he buried his face in his knees. One of them – probably Aleisha judging by the familiar scent of apples and smoke – sat down close beside and slipped her arm around his narrow shoulders, and Calum sank into her warmth with a numbness that made him feel sicker than ever.

“I’m cold. I’ve been out here all day,” Calum said quietly, his voice hoarse with how much he’d been crying and smoking. Calum tried coughing to clear his throat but it didn’t help; it just sent pain racking through his exhausted muscles instead.

“What’s wrong, Cal? Did something happen?” Aleisha asked gently but Ashley was staring at him with growing horror now and Calum turned his head away in vain, hiding it in the warm skin of Aleisha’s neck as he desperately tried to avoid the older girl’s gaze.

“Oh my god,” Ashley breathed and Aleisha froze beside him. “Calum, what happened to you? What have you done?” Her words were sharp and brittle but the fear there was unmistakable.

“I… I don’t want to upset you,” Calum said weakly but, before Aleisha could open her mouth to disagree, Calum continued hurriedly: “I think some of it might be quite triggering for Ash and I don’t want to –”

“ _Calum_ ,” Ashley breathed and her eyes were wide with shock now as she reached out to grasp his hand firmly. “I’m fine. Just tell us what happened, okay? We’re here,” she said softly and Aleisha gave his bony shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’re not on your own.”

Calum shuddered as the wind picked up but he took strength from their words, straightening his back and trying to face this head on because that was the only way he knew how to be around the pair of them anymore. He told them about what had happened to Ashton behind the nightclub; told them about the curly-haired boy moving in with Luke (and brushed a kiss across Aleisha’s cheek in silent apology). He told them about how the red-haired boy had tried to save Ashton… and then he told them what he’d done with Michael. He told them that he’d lost his virginity and regretted his decision almost at once, and he told them how he’d still make the same choice even now, because he was more fucked up than they would probably ever realise.

Calum kept the details as sparing as possible but it wasn’t enough; they could still see the horrible emptiness burning in his eyes… the shake of his fingers and the pain he couldn’t quite smother from his otherwise-blank expression.

“ _Why_?” Ashley whispered and there were tears in her eyes as she held his hand tighter. “Why would you do that to yourself if you weren’t ready, Calum?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head numbly, trying to ignore how Aleisha was crying quietly beside him with her head resting on his shoulder.

“I couldn’t lose him,” Calum said and his voice was little more than a whisper now but, somehow, they heard him. “Not again. I _couldn’t_.” A tear rolled down Calum’s cheek past his defences and more followed. “But I did anyway.”

Ashley looked like she felt sick as she watched him.

“So… so you gave him _everything_ you had and… and he just took it and threw you away afterwards?”

Calum flinched violently at the words and Aleisha held him tighter, making a soft shushing noise as she carded her fingers through his dark, thinning hair. She was scowling at Ashley weakly but it was clear she agreed by her lack of argument.

Calum felt like he was falling inside himself, sinking deeper and deeper until no one could hear him screaming anymore… not that screaming would do any good. Calum had stopped crying out for help a very long time ago.

“I love him,” Calum said simply – _helplessly_ – and he bit his bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. “There was nothing else I could do.”

The sky was almost fully dark overhead now – more purple than black but not for long – and Calum was just thinking about lighting another cigarette when Ashley pressed another one towards him instead except… he had a feeling this wasn’t just tobacco.

She smiled humourlessly when he cocked his head to one side in a silent question and even Aleisha didn’t argue for once.

“You look like you need it,” Ashley said and Calum let his eyes slide shut gratefully as he balanced the joint between his lips, curling his fists in the wet grass when Aleisha leant over to light it for him. Calum passed it between him and Ashley as they sat there but they both startled in surprise when Aleisha snatched it from them to try some herself.

“What?” she asked defensively but her eyes were wet and her hand was soft when it fell to cover Calum’s gently. “I’m here too, y’know.”

“We know,” Calum whispered, lips brushing her sandy hair because even now he wanted to make sure she still felt okay. Ashley’s knees were touching Calum’s where they’d both crossed their legs and Calum liked how grounded it made him feel as the weed slowly began to do its job of relaxing his muscles. It made the ache lessen, at least a little bit.

“Loving Michael sounds painful,” Ashley said out of nowhere and it took Calum a moment to process the words. His wince was almost second nature.

“Right in one,” Calum said, forcing a faint smile. “Ten points to Gryffindor.”

Ashley shot him a vaguely offended look that Calum knew was all fake.

“Try Hufflepuff,” she said and Aleisha laughed despite herself, the sound slightly hysterical and as fragile as glass.

“As if! You’d be a Slytherin, Ash. One hundred percent,” the younger girl said and Calum let himself smile faintly as he sat with them, both warm and cold in the knowledge that these were the two people he was probably closer to than anyone else in the world anymore.

Calum thought again of Ashley’s: ‘ _Loving Michael sounds painful_ ’ and his smile died on his face as he remembered what Michael had said after they’d been together, lying there in the dark room with tears on their cheeks and fingers twisted in the sheets: “Oh, fuck, Calum, no. What did we…? _What_?”

Calum’s heart seemed to squeeze painfully in his chest and the pained sound that tore out of him was too loud to hide. Calum’s eyes grew dazed as the stupor of the drug settled over him and he felt more empty than he had done before as the tears slowly began to fall down his cheeks.

“Oh, Cal,” Aleisha said sadly but Ashley stayed silent, watching the younger boy with something that was almost calculation as she brushed his sharp cheekbone gently with her trembling fingertips.

“Are you still hurting now?” she whispered and her face crumpled when Calum gave a jerky nod, choking on fresh tears. Aleisha held him closer.

“What did you _expect_ to happen, babe?” the younger girl asked and there was something pleading in her tone, like she was praying Calum could give her a good answer that would give this _mess_ some meaning.

All Calum did was hang his head in shame as the hot tears rolled relentlessly down his cheeks.

“I don’t know,” Calum whispered and it was _true_ because… because giving all of himself to Michael hadn’t kept the red-haired boy there. It had just made everything _worse_. “I don’t fucking know anymore.”

He remembered that day at the park; remembered clinging to the metal chain on the swing like it was the only thing keeping him upright as Michael said: “We’re friends… but we can’t be anything more. This is toxic. For _both_ of us.”

Calum laughed like he was choking on broken glass.

“Cal?” Aleisha asked uncertainly but Calum’s eyes were burning with something that made her flinch and Ashley reached to take the younger girl’s shaking hand automatically.

“I have to go home,” Calum said, rising stiffly and fighting not to wince at the pain that rocketed down his spine where his bones were bruised from sitting on the hard ground. He was stoned enough that he probably shouldn’t be out on his own but they seemed to realise that he needed to be alone and Calum might have appreciated it if he could find it in himself to _care_ about anything anymore.

He smoked again on the way home, the rush of nicotine jarring him back to reality as his house came into sight. The windows were dark and Calum scraped his knuckle getting the door unlocked, not that it mattered.

 _Nothing_ mattered anymore.

Nothing at all.

Calum kicked his shoes off in the hall and stumbled upstairs in the darkness, shutting his bedroom door behind him as quietly as he could before he sank slowly onto the floor, his ribs protesting the movement as his cheek pressed against the carpet.

It was cold and dark in his room, the window pushed open as wide as possible so that the icy night-time wind slipped in to wrap chokingly around his bones.

Calum gazed up at the ceiling through blank eyes, numb and freezing as his heart beat slow in his chest. Calum wanted it to stop and the thought didn’t scare him anymore. He was too empty for fear now.

His stomach was twisting itself into sickening knots as Calum briefly considered killing himself there and then – just opening up an artery with his blade – but Calum’s body felt too heavy with fatigue and he was too tired to move now.

His arm fell back down onto the carpet with a muted thud where he’d been reaching for his blade and he knew it would leave a bruise behind later… knew and almost _craved_ it because Calum didn’t always feel like he was real anymore and that would be proof that he was still here… not that he wanted to be.

Calum hadn’t wanted to be for a very long time.

His eyes slipped shut without his permission and the stars turned in the sky overhead – Calum’s gaunt face painted silver in the moonlight as he lay on the floor – but it was hours before the dark-haired boy finally woke up, aching and uncomfortable as his body protested the abuse pitifully.

Calum thought again of the lyrics he’d written so many hours before as a tear fell down his cheek silently in the darkness:

 

**_If you say that you don't feel a thing;_ **

**_If you don't know,_ **

**_Let me go._ **

 

Calum lay there until the clock ticked towards three in the morning, wishing for death until his heart raced with it, until his stomach lurched and he realised he felt sick, until –

Sick.

He felt _sick_.

The dark-haired boy pushed himself up slowly, his eyelashes sticky with tears from where’d been crying even while he was asleep. Calum walked to the bathroom on numb legs, locking the door carefully behind him.

He didn’t come out for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please, please let me know what you thought :) <3


	76. Wishbone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _Michael had always sounded angry or scared or upset before but, for the first time, Calum heard how_ dead _Michael sounded and it cut him deeper than he could possibly have imagined._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken me a little while to update but I hope you guys will like this!  
> It's angsty as hell but I tried not to make it too similar to the chapter in Maelstrom so I'm hoping I did it justice!  
> Fingers crossed you enjoy :)

**_That was the day that I promised,_ **

**_I'd never sing of love if it does not exist,_ **

**_But, darling, you are the only exception._ **

_\- The Only Exception, Paramore_

 

Ashton came back to school on Monday morning.

Michael was sitting on a low wall in the carpark when he saw Ashton’s car glide into a nearby space and the cereal bar Michael had been eating turned to chalk in his mouth. He’d already been sitting here for close to forty five minutes now, clothes damp in the mist of rain as he stared blankly ahead.

He’d been thinking about Calum on Saturday and what they’d shared: the searching fingers, the heat and friction, the shared tears. Michael’s eyes prickled now if he thought about it but he fought down on the rising nausea as his stomach churned sickeningly.

Ashton’s car door slammed shut and startled the red-haired boy from his reverie, and Michael wanted to _cry_ when he saw the unhealthy grey pallor of the smaller boy’s face. Ashton winced when he rose from the car and Michael’s breath caught painfully when Ashton gripped the metal frame hard to stay upright.

Quite suddenly, Michael’s vision flickered and he remembered Ashton’s knuckles – scraped bloody and raw – as his fingers twitched to curl around the taller boy's boot, grounding and frantic as Ashton fell apart on the floor of the alley.

The curly-haired boy came to an automatic stop in front of Michael, staring down at the crushed cereal bar lying on the rain-wet ground blankly before he looked at the red-haired boy’s nails biting bloody crescents into his palms.

Michael couldn’t believe Ashton was back so soon after what had happened to him. He couldn’t believe it at all.

“ _Ash_ ,” Michael croaked helplessly and the smaller boy closed his hazel eyes against the tears running gently down his cheeks. Ashton’s arms were wrapped tightly around himself and he took an unconscious step back when Michael reached for him unthinkingly, the movement jerky. The younger boy’s emerald eyes burnt with tears but Ashton was already starting for the building, flinching away from anyone who came too close like he was on the brink of a panic attack.

Michael fell into step beside Ashton wordlessly, glaring at anyone who came close because he wanted this to be as painless as possible for Ashton… like Ashton’s life could ever _not_ be painful.

Michael jerked in shock when Calum appeared at his locker beside them and the frightened sound that tore out of Ashton when Michael’s arm brushed his made tears well in the red-haired boy’s eyes.

Calum watched the exchange with damp eyes, his empty stomach knotting itself together painfully when he caught Ashton’s attention and drew him into a very careful hug. The smaller boy held himself rigid but he let out a broken sigh when Calum whispered how sorry he was and he thought the older boy might appreciate it anyway.

The only time Ashton looked remotely calm all morning was during football practice when he was standing in the goal, far away from everyone else. Calum watched him with worried eyes but, when Ashton seemed content to simply drift through school like a ghost, Calum’s thoughts began to wander again.

He found himself recalling what had happened over the weekend with painful clarity; noticed Michael avoiding his gaze with frantic worry and pain, affection and need, panic and fear, and… god, the dark-haired boy couldn’t _take_ it because he had given Michael _everything_ he could ever give him – ' _Except your love,_ ' he thought dully, and ached – but Michael was still holding himself so stubbornly that he looked like he was about to break apart and Calum couldn’t stand it anymore.

The icy numbness Ashton was emanating put the younger two on edge and the curly-haired boy vanished sometime before noon, presumably to go back home which secretly relieved them both. The downside was that the tension growing between Michael and Calum only worsened without Ashton there to act as a buffer.

By lunchtime, Calum’s frayed nerves had had enough.

All it took was one concerned look from Michael when the dark-haired boy declined his offer of sharing a sandwich and Calum froze, stiffening up as his anger trickled cold down his spine like icy water. Michael was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and Calum remembered doing the same thing on Saturday for a moment; remembered how it felt to sink his teeth into Michael’s lip and make him moan, and Calum’s knees weakened beneath him.

“Calum,” Michael said softly and the sandwich in his hand was almost blurry now with how hard Michael’s hand was shaking… or maybe it was the tears clouding Calum’s vision instead. Michael’s uneaten sandwich dropped down onto the table and the red-haired boy’s breath rasped out of him like he was trying not to panic. Calum’s chair scraped when he pushed it back sharply and, dimly, he was aware of nearby students beginning to stare at them.

“ _Damnit_ , Calum.” Michael’s voice dropped to a hiss but he still looked panicked. “You… you’ve lost so much weight and –” Calum fought not to gag, covering his mouth with his hand as he tried not to be sick, and Michael was staring at Calum like his worst fears were being confirmed now, and Calum couldn’t breathe against the nausea and the fear unfurling inside him.

He ran from the canteen with a choked sob, tears already leaking down his gaunt cheeks as he headed straight for the bathroom, dizzy and weak. Calum could hear Michael’s footfalls fading as the younger boy sped away and Calum slammed into the bathroom door hard, knocking the breath out of himself as the solitary student inside scarpered.

The door swung shut and Calum leant heavily against the leaking sink, crying so much that his sobs became painful as he struggled to keep himself upright, fingertips pressing so hard into the cracked porcelain that he thought his fingers might not remember how to stop curling like talons afterwards.

Calum jerked his head up and, for just a moment, his reflection in the dirty mirror just inches from his face shocked him.

“Oh _god_ ,” Calum gasped out and it seemed to come from his very soul, the pain of it stealing the breath from his lungs.

He saw the gauntness of his cheeks, the too-dark hollows around his eyes and the bruises stretching beneath them. He saw how sharp his collarbone looked where the collar of his shirt was parted, saw how his hair was so much thinner than it had been once because it was starting to fall out and – and –

Calum blinked his tears away and he was back again: fat and disgusting, and more imperfect than anyone else he’d ever met.

The bathroom door slammed into the wall and Calum whipped around without thinking, slamming his hip painfully into the sink as he tried to back away when he saw who had entered the room behind him.

“Piss _off_ , Michael!” Calum snapped, panicking badly now because Michael was the _last_ person he wanted to see him when he was in such a state… because then there wasn’t even a _chance_ that Michael might one day view Calum as someone he could want for real.

Calum’s defensiveness made his panic coil tighter in his chest and his head swam sickeningly as he gasped in a desperate breath, choking on the stale air.

“Cal, I – _please_ , I’m _worried_ about you!” Michael looked frantic, his cheeks flushed with blood as his chest heaved. “You’re really thin and –”

Calum saw red. Wasn’t it enough that Michael had used him and thrown him aside? Why did he have to lie to him too?

“You don’t get to talk to me about this, Michael!” Calum’s voice was tight and strained, and his abrupt anger was feverish as he remembered the love-bites and betrayal, and how much everything _hurt_ him right now. Michael’s lies were just too much to stomach and Calum whimpered despite himself as his fingers bit painfully into the fat of his stomach.

Michael reached for him with tears running down his flaming cheeks, still crying breathlessly even now, and Calum backed away again, back slamming into the sink because he _couldn’t_ let Michael close to him now… not after everything he’d said – “ _I’m not the person you need, Cal. You need someone who can **love** you._ ” – because, even after all this time, Michael still didn’t love him… had _never_ loved him… no matter how many times Calum tried to delude himself.

Michael was watching him helplessly now, his eyes glassy with tears and pain and _fear_ , and Calum felt his heart lurching painfully in his chest as he forced himself to focus on the matter at hand; to answer all of Michael’s lies with painful truths because words were all Calum had left anymore.

He’d lost everything else along the way.

“I’m fat,” Calum argued and his voice was quieter now, thick with poison and bitterness. “Fat, fat, _fucking_ fat. You don’t know what you’re t-talking about!” Calum hated himself for letting his voice break.

He hated himself for a lot of things.

“Cal, I – can’t you _see_ yourself?” Michael demanded but his fingers were twisting painfully together now and, even after all that had crumbled between them, Calum still wanted him to stop hurting himself. “You’re gonna fucking _die_ if you keep this up and I –” The older boy broke off and Calum swallowed against the rage rising inside him. “I can’t _live_ with that.”

Michael had done this. Michael had kissed him and told Calum he loved him. Michael had pushed Calum away and hidden himself behind anger and terror and _love_. Michael had taken everything Calum had to give and hid everything of himself away in return.

Michael, _Michael_ , **_Michael_.**

Ruining Calum one kiss at a time.

Michael didn’t think he could live with that? Well how the _fuck_ did he think Calum felt?!

Calum’s palm made a cracking sound when it caught Michael’s cheek and the action seemed to surprise both of them. Michael choked on a sob and Calum’s self-hatred felt like it was strangling him as he stared at his stinging hand in shock, the tears beginning to fall as he looked at the red handprint flaming on Michael’s cheek and… and fuck, Calum felt the way _David_ must feel when he hit Joy... except Calum wanted to cut his hand off at the wrist.

Michael staggered backwards, trembling hand twitching up to cover the mark on his face and… and Calum thought of what Michael had just said – “ _You’re gonna fucking **die** if you keep this up!_ ” – and Calum had never wished for anything more.

He had just hurt Michael out of _choice_ and… and Calum should get struck down by fucking lightning for that.

His self-loathing was suffocating and Calum felt like the ground was crumbling away beneath his feet; felt like he was slipping off the ledge inside his head and losing his grip… felt like he was _unravelling_ almost because nothing made sense anymore and he didn’t know what to do but there was the bruise sucked into Michael’s throat and… and Calum didn’t know if he’d left it there or if it had been somebody else.

“You don’t get to say this to me,” Calum said but his voice was little more than a whisper now, faint and pathetic, and his words were several long seconds too late. Calum knew he was losing it now; he could feel the realisation sinking into his bones but… but it was too late.

It was _far_ too late.

Calum could feel himself giving up.

Michael stared at him helplessly, one cheek burning scarlet, and Calum’s body felt so weak; he felt shivery and hot, like he was so boiling that he was just steam now; burning up, up, up… fading away to nothing.

Michael’s cherry-red lips parted but no sound came out and Calum felt something go cold inside him.

He remembered that day in the corridor with Ashton; remembered rounding the corner and stumbling upon Michael kissing someone else, his tongue sliding into their mouth as their fingers tangled in his soft red hair and… and Calum couldn’t do it anymore.

He couldn’t do _anything_.

“You sleep with other people, Mike. You kiss them. You _fuck_ them.” Calum was shaking so badly he could barely stay upright now because… god, because Michael was Calum’s first time but he _wasn’t_ Michael’s and that cut even _deeper_ , twisting the knife agonisingly in Calum’s **fat** stomach. “I hear stuff. I hear…” Calum was crying harder, ragged breaths tearing from him as his tears fell searingly. “So… so don’t you _dare_  tell me that… that you _care_ … that you fucking _love_ me… because you **don’t**.”

The ‘ _don’t you remember?!_ ’ went unsaid and Michael flinched away, shaking hands curling into fists as the guilt and panic saturated his expression.

“Cal, I…” Michael’s voice trailed away as his fingertips brushed his sore cheek and his eyes grew glassy, and the tone he was speaking in shook Calum to the core because Michael had always sounded angry or scared or upset before but, for the first time, Calum heard how _dead_ Michael sounded and it cut him deeper than he could possibly have imagined.

“ _Please_. Cal, I… I love you with my whole _heart_ –” Lies, lies, _fucking_ lies. ‘ _He doesn’t love me. He **can’t** do._ ’ – “But… but surely you can see that… that I’m not just going to stay _on my own_ forever!”

Michael's voice was pleading but he sounded like he was getting angry now too and Calum was strangely glad of it. When Michael was drawing so much fire inside to keep himself burning, Calum felt emptier – _lighter_ – than ever. He felt like he was slipping away.

“You agreed with me when I said it couldn’t work if you didn’t feel the same way, Cal!” Michael wiped streaming tears from his cheeks with a fierce gesture and a poorly-suppressed shudder, and Calum just watched him helplessly as his world fell apart around him. “You agreed!"

Michael was right and Calum thought maybe that was the worst thing.

He remembered all of their arguments and panic, and the choked: “ _Just friends_.”

Calum was really, _properly_ losing it now because, after all this time, the frightened boy who had made that desperate decision all those months ago didn’t even feel like the same _person_ anymore.

Calum thought the boy who first ran away from Michael might be dead now.

Calum thought _he_ might almost be dead too.

“ _I KNOW I AGREED_!”

Calum didn’t mean to shout and Michael’s agony was plain on his face now. For one heart-stopping moment, Calum was terrified Michael could tell what he was thinking. The older boy’s words had hurt a lot and Calum choked on the sour taste of them; on how fucking _unfair_ they felt because, damnit, Calum didn’t want to be alone either!

God, maybe he’d take Michael even if their love _wasn’t_ right… if the older boy would still have him.

Please, _please_ , let Michael still want him.

“I fucking _know_ I agreed!” Calum repeated heavily but his voice was softer now, more desperate. Michael was shuddering like his body was trying to tear itself apart and he flinched away violently when Calum moved closer, and the dark-haired boy felt something breaking inside him because… he hit Michael.

He hurt him.

He betrayed him.

He deserved to _die_ probably.

“I know,” Calum breathed and Michael slumped back against the sink like Calum had let all the air out of him. Calum felt like he was going to fall down, like he was going to crack his head on the tiles and bleed out intil he was dead. He hoped it happened. He _needed_ it.

The **PERFECT** on his leg gave a phantom throb.

“But that doesn’t mean I haven’t changed my _mind_ , Mike!” Calum finished shakily, his tone almost imploring now as he tried to un-see his hand smacking against Michael’s pale face.

The red-haired boy looked like he was going to pass out. His fear and panic were combining with the undeniable, nauseating _love_ boiling inside him and warring on his worryingly pale face, and he looked like he was going to be sick -

_Sick._

Calum needed to be sick.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Michael asked, startling Calum. The red-haired boy's voice was weaker and he seemed to be struggling to stay upright. The dark-haired boy could hear a sob building in Michael’s voice and there was one growing in his chest too; Calum could _feel_ it and he couldn’t hold his emotions in check anymore as his words rose inside him like a tidal wave.

Michael’s soft, desperate, tear-wet green eyes met Calum’s and the younger boy’s vision jarred for a moment, dragging him back to that night when he kissed Aleisha… when a quote from the film kept Calum’s panic at bay when nothing else would:

“ _Sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it._ ”

This was it.

This was the moment that most of the last _year_ had been boiling down to. Maybe even their whole _lives_.

Twenty seconds. Just twenty seconds and it would all be over.

At last.

Calum’s voice was soft and very careful, and he felt more fragile than he ever had before… felt like there was a wishbone he was breaking to say these words now and, too late, he was realising that the wishbone lived in his chest.

“It means that I fucking love you _too_ , Michael,” Calum said and his voice was quiet but he might as well have shouted it. The handprint on Michael’s cheek was fading now and the red-haired boy had stopped breathing. “I think I always have.”

Calum didn’t know what outcome he’d been expecting – maybe Michael’s hands to tangle with his, the crescent-moon cuts held safe against Calum’s; maybe a curse or even a _punch_ , quickly followed by stunned relief; maybe just Michael falling into Calum’s arms and promising that everything was going to be okay again as he pressed kisses across the younger boy's jaw – but that wasn’t what happened.

Michael’s strangled sob cut Calum right down to his bones and, when Michael ran away, it felt like he took the ruin of Calum’s broken heart with him.

Calum’s knees hit the wet floor and he stared blankly at the opposite wall as his heart seemed to slow in his chest. Calum stayed there for so long that the dripping of the tap made him want to smash something to pieces but he was quite certain it couldn’t make him more insane than he already was.

When Calum finally left the bathroom – long after Michael had gone – Calum had never felt deader inside.

He gave up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought by leaving comments and kudos <3  
> Also I have a question for you all:  
> Shall I just focus on Tempest or shall I try to update “you keep eternity”, “that’s why you like it” and “Wherever I Lay My Hat” at the same time? Or maybe two fics at a time? I really want to hear what you think so please let me know!


	77. The Daily Grind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“Ashton heard you that day in the bathroom, Mike,” Luke said quietly. Michael’s heart sank like a stone in his chest. “He heard you and Calum.”_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, we're back and this time it didn't take ten years to write an update!  
> Also, just in case anyone wondered, this chapter takes place just before Chapter 103 in Maelstrom.  
> We’re well past the halfway mark now and I can’t believe it!  
> This chapter feels a little different to usual but I hope you'll still like it!  
> Fingers crossed you enjoy :)

**_"Kathy, I'm lost", I said,_ **

**_Though I knew she was sleeping._ **

**_"I'm empty and aching and_ **

**_I don't know why."_ **

_\- America, Simon & Garfunkel_

 

Michael couldn’t stand the confines of his own skin anymore.

The night after his fight in the bathroom with Calum - if it could even be _called_ a fight when Calum had hit him and confessed his love - Michael stayed awake all night long, hunched over the bathroom sink as he scrubbed mercilessly at his hands, sobs tearing out of him as blood welled in the cracks between his fingers.

Graham refused to leave him alone, even when Michael tearfully insisted that he was fine. His uncle remained though, sitting on the edge of the bath and rubbing Michael’s shoulder gently until his nephew was finally calm enough to collapse into his arms.

Michael’s hands were bandaged now on Graham’s insistence - he didn’t want the cuts on Michael’s knuckles to get infected but having something that felt so dirty clinging to him felt like the worst kind of punishment - and Michael accepted it with ill grace.

The horrible itch in his hands was a good distraction though and Michael clung to it like a comfort blanket, wrapping himself in the suffocating anger of it because, for just a few minutes, it kept the raw _pain_ at bay.

The next few days passed slowly.

Michael went to school. He was sick of disappointing Graham and there was nothing for him to do at home. Spending too long in his room only succeeded in reminding him of Calum and the worry he felt for his two oldest best friends was eating away at him like acid as the world grew darker around him.

Michael couldn’t stand sitting around at home alone anymore. He left the house as soon as Graham did for his shift and spent the evenings wandering around the town, avoiding the area near the nightclub like the plague although he was too restless to stay in his room.

It was one of those nights now.

The sky was a smeared mess of navy and black overhead, and Michael’s heart was heavy in his chest as he walked, bandaged hands buried in his pockets as he turned down a street he’d never seen before. There was an antiques shop, a convenience store, a used book shop, and an old coffee shop tucked away with golden light spilling out onto the rain-wet pavement. Michael snorted weakly when he saw the name of it: The Daily Grind.

That felt accurate right now and, figuring that he had a few dollars to spare, he shrugged deeper into his hoodie and nudged the door open with his elbow. A bell chimed as Michael entered and, despite his apprehension, nobody paid him much attention as he crossed the gleaming floor.

There was a menu board overhead and the soft music playing was almost hidden beneath the laughter and voices mingling in the warm, sweet-smelling air around him. The place was clean and comforting, and Michael wondered how he’d never found it before.

Wandering up the counter, Michael read the drink selection and waited for the barista to turn around. The guy looked about his age, a few inches shorter with black hair swept back out of his face. He was dressed in a brown apron over dark skinny jeans and a t-shirt, and Michael had the strangest feeling of foreboding before the guy turned around and Michael’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled, probably stupidly. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Charlie Barker was staring at Michael with similar alarm but there was something exhausted in his expression as he looked at the taller boy, his dark eyes tired and sad as his hands fell to hang limply by his sides.

“Clifford,” Charlie said but his voice was faint and, for just a moment, Michael’s vision flickered and he remembered a stall in the nightclub when Charlie’s fingers tangled in Michael’s hair as his hips started to jerk. Michael’s cheeks heated red and Charlie seriously looked like he was considering headbutting something. “What can I get you?”

“I - uh - shit, I wasn’t expecting you to -” Michael was panicking slightly. Charlie smiled humourlessly as he dropped the cloth he’d been wiping the counter with.

“Do you want a tea, Michael?” The use of the red-haired boy’s first name startled him into compliance and Michael pressed his lips together hard, nodding mutely. Charlie’s lips twitched but his shoulders were slumped like he was carrying the heaviest weight as he got to work fixing the drink. “I guess this can be my treat after the shitty way I treated you.”

Michael stared over at Charlie in surprise as the black-haired boy turned away to fill the mug with boiling water. The hiss of the steam escaping the machine distracted him and Michael cleared his throat awkwardly, teeth worrying his bottom lip as he watched the former-football player easing his wallet out of his pocket to pay for it himself.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Michael said weakly as Charlie shut the till before pushing the mug towards him. The black-haired boy watched him carefully for a moment and Michael’s bandaged hand slipped from his pocket to accept the drink.

Charlie had hated him once; had called him homophobic names and got punched in the face for his troubles but… but then they’d fucked in a bathroom, both drunk out of their skulls and craving comfort, and now nothing was certain anymore.

“I know I didn’t,” Charlie said after a long, _long_ moment. “But I figure it’s the least you deserve.”

Michael managed a faint smile as he took the drink from the smaller boy but then the door chimed with a new customer and Charlie turned away again.

Michael went off in search of an empty table, his head reeling with everything that had just happened because… because it just felt _weird_. He knew it wasn’t exactly beyond the realms of possibility for Charlie to work an evening job - honestly, Michael would do it too if his OCD was easier to cope with and he wasn’t so damn _lazy_ sometimes - but for him to have stumbled in here now and actually had a civil conversation with him… it felt too weird to be true.

Too _good_.

Nothing good ever happened to Michael anymore.

There was a spare table in the corner with two empty seats, tucked close to the window where drops of rain were just beginning to glide down the glass outside. The sky was black overhead and the streetlights were twinkling as Michael tugged the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands, warming his palms on the mug.

His tired green eyes drifted around the coffee shop as he sat there and he took in the people sitting in The Daily Grind: there were two college students sharing a danish pastry and giggling over pictures on the darker girl’s phone; an old couple nursing cappuccinos together and writing on the back of a postcard; a tired-looking man in a red plaid shirt writing in a leather-bound notebook; a young girl listening to music on her iPod; two teenagers discussing an upcoming dance show nearby, one of whom was a pretty girl with caramel-coloured skin and dark curls, and the other who was -

“ _Luke_?” Michael blurted stupidly and the blond boy looked up, his face slackening with surprise for a moment before a friendly - if hesitant - smile lit up his face. The blond boy murmured something to the girl he’d been sitting with and then he rose fluidly, weaving through the tables with his jacket folded over one arm and a hot chocolate cradled in his hands.

“Hey, Mikey,” Luke said when he reached the older boy’s table. “I didn’t see you over here. You mind if I sit?”

“Not at all,” Michael mumbled, gesturing awkwardly to the spare chair. Luke’s clever blue eyes settled on the bandages but he knew better than to ask what had happened and Michael was reminded once more of why he had slowly warmed to Luke all those months before. “Um… doesn’t your friend mind you -”

“I was just leaving,” the girl said warmly as she approached their table, pulling Luke into a one-armed hug as she gave Michael a gentle but curious smile. She dropped a fond kiss onto Luke’s head and ruffled his blond hair messily. “I hope you feel better soon, Luke,” she said and Michael realised with a painful jolt that Luke must not have recovered from the injuries inflicted by his father yet.

“Alright, Sky. I’ll see you at school,” Luke said, grinning at her and giving her an overly-dramatic wave that made Michael roll his eyes fondly as she left. The blond boy looked more tired when she was gone but he also looked more relaxed and Michael felt surprisingly touched.

“How are you doing, Mikey?” Luke asked gently and there was something in his voice that made Michael feel defensive.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked but his bandaged hands were shaking and Luke’s expression crumpled for a moment before he forced it calm again.

“Because Ashton heard you that day in the bathroom, Mike,” Luke said quietly. Michael’s heart sank like a stone in his chest. “He heard you and Calum.”

Michael thought Luke’s words might have been too much if he’d sounded blunt or irritated but he _still_ just sounded soft… and, inexplicably, it reminded Michael of Calum. It reminded him of soft dark curls and chocolate brown eyes and laughter that Michael hadn’t heard in so _long_ now.

It reminded him of everything he’d lost.

“I just want to cry all the time,” Michael breathed without knowing why. “But I can’t let myself.”

“Oh, Mikey,” Luke whispered and his blue eyes were full of tears now. “Ash and I… we… we’re so scared for you both. We just want for you two to be okay again.”

“I don’t think we can be,” Michael said and his voice was too high, tight with pain. “I keep breaking us. It’s all I’m good at.”

Luke sniffed hard as a tear ran down his cheek and he threw caution to the wind, letting his palm fall to rest gently on Michael’s forearm through his hoodie. The touch was just light enough that Michael didn’t shudder and Luke looked heartened, like he could tell what a big deal this was.

Knowing how perceptive the blond boy was, he probably _could_.

“We won’t let you break,” Luke said quietly, his voice sincere and firm. “I promise you that, Mikey. Ash and I are going to make it work and… and so are you two. _Somehow_. I swear it.”

Michael smiled weakly but his eyes were wet now and his relief made him dizzy when Luke didn’t call him out on the tears.

“I was glad I saw you tonight,” Luke said softly. “I wanted to thank you again for what you did for Ash… I want you to know that I can never be grateful enough.”

Michael’s throat thickened and he buried his face in the crook of his elbow for a minute, pressing his nose into the clean-smelling material as his shoulders shook with what was definitely _not_ a sob.

“I was too late,” Michael mumbled, glancing up through spiky, tear-wet eyelashes just in time to see Luke flinch back violently. The blond boy’s hand rose to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly though and, when Michael unwillingly dragged his gaze up to Luke’s face, the blond boy’s expression had hardened into something almost _fiercely_ kind.

“You weren’t and I refuse to let you think that,” Luke said sharply but he was still squeezing Michael’s shoulder gently, thumb rubbing the soft material as some of the tension bled out of the older boy. “You might well have saved Ash’s life and I promise you, there’s nothing I can ever do that will be enough to thank you for that.” Luke’s blue eyes were sparkling with tears and their mugs sat forgotten between them now. Luke smiled when Michael held his gaze but he looked like his heart was aching in his chest. “Thank you, Michael. Thank you so, _so_ much.”

The red-haired boy’s cheeks flushed but he smiled weakly, tears falling now as his hands prickled uncomfortably beneath the bandages. There were a lot of things Michael could have said then but he settled for a soft: “I wish I’d done more.”

Luke risked brushing Michael’s hair back from his face and the older boy snorted weakly, butting Luke’s hand away with his head. Luke gave him a watery smile which Michael shakily returned.

“You did enough, Mikey. _You’re_ enough.”

The conversation died down after that but neither of them seemed to resent the silence. For the first time in weeks now, Michael was able to feel comfortable in the quiet without dwelling on what had happened to Ashton or thinking about Calum wasting away before his eyes… thinking about the sharp stinging slap or Calum’s _words_...

It was just Michael and Luke instead, sitting in their little bubble of calm against the tumultuous storm outside.

Soon the world returned though and it came in the form of a text from Luke’s aunt. He withdrew his phone from his pocket and Michael watched with a heavy heart as the younger boy’s expression grew strained with worry.

“Ash needs me,” Luke said softly and there was something apologetic in his tone, even as his eyes drifted longingly towards the dark night outside where Ashton was waiting for him somewhere, desperate and lonely and _loving_. “I only really popped out to discuss the dance show with Sky but -”

“It’s okay,” Michael said softly, managing a crooked smile that didn’t really touch his eyes as the blond boy rose hesitantly. “Thank you for sitting with me, Luke. You get home safe, okay?”

“Okay,” the blond boy said, smiling soft and tired. "You too." He gave Michael’s shoulder one more squeeze before he stepped away from the table. “I’ll text you tomorrow or something, okay? You take care of yourself. You’re gonna be alright, Mikey. I promise.”

Michael watched Luke leave with a distinct tearing pain in his chest as his heart tore itself in two.

He could see how much Luke loved Ashton in the sparkle of his blue eyes; in the way he was clutching his phone like a lifeline; in the way he broke into a run between the amber pools of the streetlights as he raced towards his boyfriend.

Michael wondered if Calum felt that way about him -

And then he remembered the light going out in Calum’s face when Michael ran away as he realised with an agonising jolt that everything between them was destroyed now.

Michael sat there in silent pain for some time before a familiar voice startled him from his reverie.

“We’re closing soon, Michael.” Charlie’s words were soft and uncertain, and Michael wondered again at how much he’d changed. Maybe they were both growing up. “Are you finished with your drink?”

“I - yeah, almost - sorry -”

“It’s okay,” Charlie said, sinking down into the seat opposite him and folding his hands on the table as he slumped back in the seat. The bags under his eyes looked like bruises and Michael’s smile hurt his face in strange ways.

“You look how I feel,” he said and Charlie snorted, burying his head in his hands for a moment.

“Yeah, well I’m not sleeping much at the moment,” the black-haired boy admitted. “I’m thinking about totally coming out to my parents tomorrow so I’m kind of freaking out, you know?”

“Oh shit,” Michael said weakly, eyebrows raising slightly although he had to admit that it made sense. Only someone deep in denial would behave the way Charlie had and Michael decided in that moment that it was time to be the bigger person. He reached out to brush his knuckles lightly over the other boy’s shoulder, fighting a wince, and Charlie’s dark eyes widened in surprise. “I hope it goes well for you,” the red-haired boy said quietly.

Charlie gave Michael a long, confused look before something in his eyes softened.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an arsehole to you.”

“You can’t help that,” Michael said, aiming for a smile and failing dismally. “It’s all part of your charm, right?”

“You could say that,” Charlie said, lips twitching. Michael tried to smile again but it slipped from his face and his bone-weary sigh wasn’t quiet enough. “Hey, are you okay?” Charlie asked, somewhat awkwardly, and the red-haired boy looked at him in silence before he shook his head weakly.

“I will be eventually,” Michael said, almost a direct contradiction to his actions.

Charlie’s hesitant smile faded from his face.

“That’s not quite the same as a yes, Michael.”

The red-haired boy smiled unpleasantly as he stared down at the table-top.

“You’re telling me,” he said.

Charlie watched him go with poorly-disguised concern when the red-haired boy finally left.

Michael didn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! :)  
> Please let me know what you thought by leaving comments and kudos <3


	78. A Force Of Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _All Calum could see in his mind’s eye when he read those words was Michael with his agonised eyes and the hairline fractures spreading over his porcelain skin like Nina. Calum figured that everyone was so determined to be worried about_ him _all the time that nobody seemed to realise that Michael was falling apart right before their eyes too._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me a little while to update.  
> I'm not very happy with it but I hope you'll like it!

**_Just because I’m losing,_ **

**_Doesn’t mean I’m lost._ **

_\- Lost!, Coldplay_

 

Life went on and Calum found it strange that the world continued to turn after such an earth-shattering moment as that day in the bathroom with Michael.

Calum couldn’t process it. All he had left were splintered fragments of what had happened: the pain and the anger, Michael’s worried green eyes, a flaming handmark fading on his cheek… and the words Calum had said: " _I fucking love you_ too _, Michael. I think I always have._ "

Calum felt so numb now. Every day was the same and the enormity of just how much Calum had wrecked everything refused to sink in.

He hadn’t been able to sleep the night before, too caught up in the sensation of literally drowning in his feelings. He’d grabbed a notebook in the end, pulling it beneath the covers with him and using his phone torch as he scribbled in the darkness. First it was just doodles and random words but it soon formed into full sentences, and one lyric in particular brought tears to Calum’s exhausted eyes when he read it the next morning:

 

**_You look so beautiful._ **

**_No one but me knows you’re insane._ **

 

All Calum could see in his mind’s eye when he read those words was Michael with his agonised eyes and the hairline fractures spreading over his porcelain skin like Nina. Calum figured that everyone was so determined to be worried about _him_ all the time that nobody seemed to realise that Michael was falling apart right before their eyes too.

Calum didn’t know how to carry on anymore.

He left the house at seven o’clock that morning, shrugging into a heavy denim jacket over an oversized grey hoodie which would hopefully ward off the perpetual chill that Calum always felt nowadays. He stuffed his phone, his cigarettes and his lighter into the pocket of his hoodie, and Calum was already half-running as he hurried down the driveway and out into the early morning.

He couldn’t bear to sit still at home anymore. He just wanted to be out in the elements, out where the wind could claw away how fucking _raw_ he felt as his bloodied heart thumped unevenly in his hollow chest.

Luke wanted to meet up with Calum today. Apparently the younger boy’s aunt was taking Ashton to the doctors - just a check up after what had happened behind the nightclub - and Luke hadn’t wanted to be alone. Calum didn’t mind. He hadn’t seen the blond boy properly in a while now and he figured it couldn’t hurt… not that Calum was under any illusions.

He could feel his already-fragile sanity crumbling away beneath him like sand and he knew nothing could fix this now.

It was too late.

His phone chimed in his pocket as he walked along beneath the washed out grey sky and he eased it out, fighting against the lump rising in his throat and the nausea churning in his stomach as he saw the incoming call from his sister lighting up his screen.

“Mali?” he asked, frowning faintly as he stubbed out the cigarette he’d been smoking on a garden wall he was passing. “It’s early. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Cal. Just couldn’t sleep.” Mali’s voice was so cheerful sounding that Calum’s eyes swam with bitter tears. “How have you been? It feels like we haven’t spoken in ages!”

“That’s because we haven’t,” Calum muttered before he could stop himself and Mali fell silent with what could only be pain. Calum’s heart sank like a stone in his chest. “Sorry,” he whispered but he wasn’t sure Mali had heard him.

“Any plans for today, Cal?” Mali asked after a long, awkward moment. Her tone was one of forced cheer and Calum’s eyes stung with tears as he came to a slow stop in the early morning, leaning heavily against a streetlight as his breath escaped him in a low sigh.

“I’m meeting Luke in a couple of hours but I got ready too early so I’m just walking around now.” It was the most Calum had said in one day since his last conversation with Michael and it made his chest feel tight almost; made him feel dizzy with how exhausting it was to even draw in enough oxygen to speak anymore.

“It’s kind of early for a walk, squirt,” Mali said hesitantly, her words twisted like she was biting her lip. “Cally, are… are you okay?”

The day was dawning bright but Calum felt like a shadow in the watery sunlight… felt _faded_ as a car roared past too fast and his head spun sickeningly.

“Yes,” Calum said and the answer was so obviously a lie that he almost smiled. “I’m fine.” Calum left the town behind him, walking up the winding road past the pier as a light breeze whistled through the trees.

“So… how are you and Michael these days?” Mali asked awkwardly and Calum’s heart ached because this was maybe the one time he actually _didn’t_ feel like talking to her. There was too much going on inside Calum’s head and he couldn’t let even one stray thought escape now because, if he did, they might all tear out of him before he could stop them.

He might lose himself in the pain of them.

“We’re kinda messed up,” Calum said when it became clear that Mali wasn’t going to break the silence. “We… we ended up…” His voice trailed away but the weight of his words was crushing and Mali had always known Calum better than anyone; it stood to reason that she would guess correctly now.

“Oh, Calum, you _didn’t_ ,” she breathed and he closed his eyes for a moment, his heart aching painfully in his chest. “You… you had sex with him? Even after what we said last time?”

“I know what I’m doing,” Calum said, repeating exactly what he’d said the last time they had this conversation, and Calum expected Mali to be derisive now but the unexpected concern in her words was poorly-suppressed.

“I trust you,” Mali said after a long moment and the softness of her voice took him by surprise. “But… I mean this, Cally. If you need me to come home then I will, baby; I promise.” She hadn’t called him baby in so long that Calum’s eyes prickled with tears and he sat down heavily on the pavement, wrapping one arm tightly around his legs as he buried his head in his knees.

“I don’t care if you think you’re being silly or… or needy… I don’t _care_ , okay? Because you’re my little brother… Because I _left_ you and I can’t apologise for that enough.” Mali fell quiet but her breathing sounded shaky over the line, like she was trying not to cry. “I love you, squirt. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too,” Calum said. “But… don’t come back yet, okay? Maybe… maybe I could see you at Christmas or something… or for my birthday maybe?”

“Sure, Cal, but… but Christmas is _months_ away and… and I don’t want to wait for your birthday. January seems like forever away now.”

“I know but… just give me a chance to fix things first, okay?” Calum didn’t know what he was asking for anymore but he knew Mali couldn’t see him like this. “I don’t want you to come home. I want you to stay there… where you’re _happy_.”

Calum finished the call quickly after that, trying hard to ignore how he felt like he was being cleaved apart because the undeniable worry in Mali’s voice hurt to listen to and Calum didn’t want her happiness to end because of him.

She deserved so much more than that.

Calum’s heart was still aching in his chest when he finally made it to the bungalow where Luke and Ashton were staying, and the blond boy looked nothing short of alarmed when he finally opened the door to greet the dark-haired boy.

“Hey, Calum,” Luke murmured but his blue eyes were raw with concern as his knuckles brushed the smaller boy’s shoulder gently. “How’re you doing?”

“Falling apart a little bit,” Calum said unthinkingly and Luke nodded like it made perfect sense.

“You want a drink? Coffee or something?” the blond boy asked. Calum’s empty stomach twisted and he shuddered, forcing his expression blank.

“Water would be good,” Calum said and Luke nodded, leading the way with a hand in the small of the older boy’s back. Luke busied himself getting a glass and filling it at the sink, and Calum sank down heavily into a chair at the kitchen table, burying his head in his hands for a moment. His insomnia from the night before was catching up on him and he was exhausted now.

“You okay, Cal?” Luke asked gently and Calum blinked, looking up in surprise to find the blond boy already sitting across from him with a glass sitting beside the dark-haired boy’s elbow. It was strange but Calum hadn’t even seen Luke move.

“Not really,” the older boy said quietly. “Me and Mikey are… not good.” Calum blinked, wiping his eyes with his fist and swallowing heavily. “We… we keep doing stuff that we _know_ is going to fuck us up even worse but… but we can’t seem to help it.”

Luke lay his hand gently over Calum’s arm - carefully enough that it didn’t make the cuts on the smaller boy’s arms sting - and simply nodded his head in agreement, apparently aware that Calum needed to vent to someone.

“Mikey and I… we had this fight at school last week,” Calum breathed and Luke didn’t look surprised enough but the dark-haired boy was too tired to question it. “And… I did something unforgivable to him, Luke. The worst thing I’ve ever done to him.”

“Cal?” The blond boy looked wary now but he was still holding Calum’s arm gently and the dark-haired boy couldn’t stand that Luke was probably going to hate him now but he couldn’t seem to keep his words locked in anymore.

“I hit him,” Calum choked out and the pain in his chest threatened to take his breath away. “He… he was saying things - things that made me feel _awful_  but… but that was no excuse and - and -”

Luke silenced Calum with a hug, rising fluidly from his chair and drawing the smaller boy into his arms. Calum tucked his head under Luke’s chin and the blond boy kept his hands on Calum’s shoulders so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable, and Calum’s tears were boiling as they welled up in his dark eyes.

“Ash heard what happened. He… he already told me,” Luke breathed and he sounded apologetic but there was something fiercely protective in his tone all the same. “And I just wanted to say… you shouldn’t have hit Mikey. We both know that… but I can see how it happened… and you’re sorry. You didn’t mean to do it, Cal. I think Mike would understand.”

Luke lay his hand gently on Calum’s gaunt cheek and the dark-haired boy closed his eyes against the revulsion that would inevitably colour Luke’s expression when he felt how fat Calum was.

"I hate myself," Calum whispered.

“Shut your mouth, Cal,” Luke snapped but his face was gentle when Calum looked up and he couldn’t understand what he’d done right to end up with a best friend like Luke.

“How’s Ash?” Calum croaked and the blond boy’s eyes grew sadder but the love on his face was painfully apparent.

“He’s… hurting. Sad. _Angry_.” Luke looked disheartened as he sat there picking at the tablecloth but his eyes remained fond. “He got upset when he found out about us skyping,” the blond boy admitted suddenly, biting his lower lip and shooting Calum what was almost an apologetic look. “He… he says you two barely speak anymore.”

Calum hung his head, his throat thickening painfully as he fought down on tears. The guilt tore Calum up inside but he knew he wasn’t going to behave any differently. He missed Ashton more than he could say but Calum couldn’t help it. He was scared Ashton was going to tell someone about him and that would only end terribly.

“I’m sorry,” Calum whispered and Luke shrugged half-heartedly, brushing his knuckles lightly against Calum’s shoulder.

“Don’t keep on hating yourself, Cal,” Luke said softly, fixing Calum with a surprisingly intent look. “You’re worth more than that - you know that, right?” Calum ducked his head and Luke carded his fingers through the older boy’s dark curls with a mild expression on his face. “Everything’s going to be alright, Cal.”

Calum sipped his water in an effort to distract himself from how much he felt like crying and the blond boy gave him a knowing look, his faint smile sad as he settled back in his chair. Luke was dressed in navy blue shorts and a grey tank top, and Calum only noted this now with mild surprise because it was pretty far from what the younger boy usually wore.

“Were you working out before I came round?” Calum asked curiously and the blond boy smiled, stretching his arms out as the muscles rippled beneath his pale skin.

“I was practising my dance routine for the show soon and I lost track of time,” Luke said, his face lighting up as he thought about that, like it made him really happy. Calum felt something calm inside of him because it was the first time he’d seen Luke look anything less than pained since he’d been reunited with Ashton again.

“Will you show me what dancing you’ve been practising?” Calum asked hesitantly and the blond boy looked touched, a small tired smile lighting his eyes as he led the way towards the basement.

“I’ve been practising down here,” Luke explained and Calum looked around with interest once he’d descended the stairs, setting his glass down on a nearby coffee table and sinking down onto the sofa.

Ashton’s drum kit sat neglected nearby and Luke’s eyes settled on it too, growing shiny with tears before he shook himself and reached for his iPod nearby where it was sitting in the dock.

“I haven’t even shown Ash the routine yet,” Luke admitted as he fiddled with the device, searching for the right song. “So… so you’ll be the first person outside of the group who’s seen this.” Luke bit nervously at his lip-ring, catching Calum’s gaze and holding it for a moment. “Hope you don’t think it’s terrible.”

“Not likely,” Calum said and Luke’s answering smile was so relieved.

“Thanks for being such a good friend, Cal,” the blond boy said quietly but then the song was playing and Luke was stepping into the clear space in the middle of the room, and words weren’t necessary anymore.

Luke moved like a snow storm, like a million tiny little pieces combining to create something flawless and beautiful and… and _strange_. Something ethereal and fragile. A force of nature.

The music was building - some piano-heavy song that Calum had never heard before - and Luke was moving faster, twisting and spiralling, and his arms were curving in the air over his head as his eyes fell shut and… god, Calum had never seen someone so in love with something that wasn’t alive before… but Luke _made_ dancing look alive.

He made it look like something worth fighting for.

“You’re incredible!” Calum exclaimed when Luke finally slowed, his cheeks flaming but his eyes sparkling with happiness. Calum was on his feet before he’d considered it and Luke was beaming as he pulled the smaller boy into a grateful hug, and Calum couldn’t even bring himself to shy away from the contact because watching Luke enjoying himself so much made Calum feel _lighter_ somehow.

“Thank you, Calum! Thank you!” Luke had dimples when he smiled this wide and Calum had never noticed them before. It reminded him inexplicably of Aleisha but the softening in Calum’s chest was all for Luke. “Join in!” the blond boy pleaded, smiling so wide his blue eyes were crinkling now. “It’ll be fun, Cal! Please!”

“Oh, fine,” Calum said teasingly but he could scarcely believe how light he felt now and Luke’s hands were warm in his as he tangled their fingers together, towing Calum out into the open space too.

The dark-haired boy felt self-conscious at first but the next track was one Calum knew - a happier-sounding song by The Summer Set - and the hesitant smile grew unwillingly on Luke’s face as the blond boy spun him in a circle.

Calum liked how easy this felt.

Luke was laughing and the happy sound was filling the void in Calum’s chest with something that felt a lot like hope as they danced, spinning together with their arms flinging out and their smiles lighting their faces as their eyes fell shut.

“This is so fun!” Calum declared, clinging to Luke’s broad shoulders as his heart beat unsteadily in his chest and his head spun. “This is -”

He lurched sideways, the lightheadedness overwhelming him as his legs shook, and Luke’s laughter faded as his arm wrapped warmly around the smaller boy’s waist.

“Cal? Are you okay?” Luke asked gently, his tone reassuring but slightly strained.

“Just dizzy,” Calum said, giggling weakly. Luke was still smiling but his eyes were faintly concerned as he helped the dark-haired boy sit down on the sofa again.

“Okay, well… if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know, okay?” Luke said uncertainly. Calum nodded, smiling thinly when Luke sat down beside him as he let his head fall to rest in the curve of the taller boy’s neck.

“Thank you for… for this, Luke,” Calum said softly, letting his eyes slide shut. “I think I needed this.”

‘ _Not that I deserve it after what I did to Aleisha behind your back._ ’

“You’re good, Cal,” Luke said softly and it sounded like he meant it. “ _Really_ good.”

That meant a lot, even if Calum _didn’t_ believe what Luke was saying.

He’d kind of always wanted to try dancing, especially after his sister had spent so much time doing it… except Luke had looked wide-eyed and almost _frightened_ earlier - probably because he thought Calum was heavy enough to go through the fucking _floor_ \- but the blond boy’s words were sweet all the same.

Calum just wished they didn’t make the guilt simmer inside him like water slowly boiling.

“You know, if you’d gone to Kings, I bet you would’ve ended up in dance class with me,” Luke said out of nowhere, his hand resting comfortingly on the older boy’s narrow shoulder. “You have a lot of potential, Cal.” Luke snorted suddenly, his smile evident in his voice because: “Of _course_ you do. You’re Mali’s brother.”

Calum wondered why Luke was still kind enough to bother lying to him but he appreciated it a lot.

Luke was a good person and Calum was glad they were friends.

He just hoped Luke couldn’t see what he’d done with Aleisha in his empty eyes… what he’d done with Michael… what he’d done to _himself_.

Calum hoped Luke couldn’t see any of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought :)


	79. Seconds Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum closed his eyes against the tears - fought not to see his mum’s pained face and the concern saturating the love in her eyes - and then his feet were slipping on the muddy leaves beneath him and his heart was pounding painfully inside him, and he was gone; running away as fast as he could - which wasn’t very fast at all anymore - as he tried to outrun the pain in his chest._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm sorry this has taken so long and I'm not very happy with it but I don't feel so good right now and I've been crazy busy so I thought it was better to update!  
> Fingers crossed you'll enjoy it <3
> 
> P.S. I'm sorry for the one horrible bit of foreshadowing at the end of this update. I think I'm so funny, wow.

**_I look back in regret,_ **

**_How I ignored when they said:_ **

**_Run as fast as you can._ **

_\- Dear John, Taylor Swift_

 

Calum couldn’t switch off.

All he saw whenever he grew distracted was Michael, with his sparkling eyes and a handprint flaming on his cheek, and the tears running down his face as he broke Calum’s heart. The dark-haired boy had been stewing on this for over a month now and his pulse felt sluggish in his veins, like he was barely alive anymore.

Michael didn’t love him. He would probably _never_ love Calum - not even in the way he had done before - and… and Calum would just have to learn to accept that.

It didn’t matter if his thoughts raced like a chainsaw and his heart hurt in his chest.

Calum had shredded everything and Michael’s blood was beneath his nails, and that was just the way things were. Calum had torn them apart.

He barely stayed at home anymore. Calum ignored Mali’s calls and expertly sidestepped his mum’s anxious clucking, and his dad had never given a shit anyway. Luke and Ashton were keeping to themselves right now, and Ashley was hurting, and Aleisha knew him so well that Calum tried to avoid her, and the dark-haired boy had never felt this alone before.

It was cutting him up inside.

Calum’s bones felt brittle beneath his skin and he was always cold. He was still trying to go for runs sometimes but… Calum kind of _couldn’t_ anymore. His muscles ached too badly and he could scarcely catch his breath again, and his heart squeezed frighteningly in his chest whenever he exerted himself as the dizziness reached new heights and… and Calum was afraid.

The scrape on his knuckle from purging was shiny with scar tissue now, and his hair was thin and limp over his exhausted, empty eyes. Calum’s peeling trainers caught on the pavement as he walked as briskly as he could manage through the cold evening air, the sea water on the breeze dampening his curls as the first stars began to blink into existence.

Calum came to an unconscious stop on the winding road near the pier, cloaked in inky shadows as the soft sound of rolling waves met his ears. Calum tilted his head back slowly, felt the sea-spray dampening his hollow face as he thought of drop-bears and long-ago bicycle rides with Michael beneath the canopy of leaves.

Calum sank down onto the low stone wall nearby heavily, burying his dizzy head in his hands as he scuffed his running shoes on the pavement and tried not to think about how disgustingly fat he felt. He’d been sitting down for over five minutes now but Calum was still out of breath and he felt worryingly faint, and the nausea inside him was making him want to double over and claw the inside of his throat until he was sick.

His grim thoughts were interrupted by approaching footsteps and Calum slunk back into the shadows silently, pressing his back against a tree trunk - the tree he’d pressed _Michael_ up against as he’d kissed him and touched him and… oh god, oh god, _oh god_ -

Calum’s whirling thoughts were interrupted when he saw who was walking along beneath the pavement. Calum took in honey-coloured curls and a tanned face tight with panic, and Calum’s broken heart thumped unevenly in his chest.

“Ashton?” Calum breathed. He pushed shakily away from the damp bark and stumbled forwards through the shadows, emerging blinking out of the darkness and wincing when Ashton jerked his head up in shock, flinching away like Calum had frightened him.

The dark-haired boy hadn’t seen Ashton out by himself since… since what had happened behind the nightclub and it made him feel slightly sick to see the panic still lining Ashton’s face prematurely now. It felt sickeningly unfair that the older boy had experienced so much pain and all Calum wanted was to see relief spread across Ashton’s face now but… but there was just sadness and fear instead, lingering with the pain already there as he looked at Calum with empty hazel eyes.

Calum wondered why Ashton looked _more_ frightened when he saw his best friend standing there.

Calum wondered why it made him want to cry.

“Hey, Cal,” Ashton stammered, standing frozen on the other side of the road as Calum stepped into the silvery moonlight hesitantly. The older boy was dressed in an oil-stained vest - presumably he was on his way back from his shift at the garage - and Calum took in the lean lines of Ashton’s body as he bit viciously at his bottom lip. He wished he could lose weight like that.

Calum wished he wasn’t so fat he could barely stand to look at himself anymore.

“What are you doing out at this time of night?” Ashton asked weakly and Calum shrugged defensively, folding his arms tightly across his narrow chest as his vision jarred painfully.

Suddenly it was almost impossible not to say the words he _wanted_ to spit out: “ _Well, my mum’s at home crying with a bloodied face; dad’s gone out drinking again; and Mali is gone… so what the fuck do I have to be at home for?_ ”

Calum choked the words down with difficulty but they tasted sour in his mouth.

“I just went for a walk,” he said faintly and Ashton’s expression twisted. He didn’t seem to believe his best friend and Calum’s hackles rose as they were so prone to do these days, like the more he wasted away, the shorter his temper became… almost like he was turning into his _dad_.

Calum blinked and saw Michael’s flaming cheek behind his closed eyelids. His blood turned to ice in his veins.

“Right,” Ashton said softly and Calum _hated_ the knowing look on the older boy’s face because it just reminded Calum of the night when Ashton had seen the cuts lining the younger boy’s arms. “Okay…” Ashton was watching him with something like pain now and Calum wanted to put his fist through the stone wall behind him. “Why don’t you just go _home_ , Cal?”

“I can’t,” Calum breathed and Ashton stepped closer despite himself, his anxious eyes burning with a fire that Calum never felt anymore. “Mum and dad don’t care.” Calum flinched, hated the way the lie tasted because… because his mum _did_ care but… god, it was easier than explaining the alternative. “And Mali doesn’t want to come home anytime soon.” Calum’s voice was growing thick as a lump rose in his throat and he wished he could stop himself from speaking but the words were pouring rapidly out of him now like gunfire. “There’s nothing _left_ for me there anymore. There’s… there’s _nothing_...”

‘ _Stop talking, Calum. **Stop it**._ ’

Calum jammed his lips together painfully hard, watching Ashton through the prickling in his eyes as his small hands twisted into fists.

“ _Cal_ , I -” Ashton choked on his words, his eyes burning with tears like he was just seconds away from crying, and it cut Calum agonisingly deep that, even after everything that had happened to Ashton, he still seemed more worried about everyone else.

Calum searched frantically for a subject change, hating that he was the cause of the turmoil on his best friend’s face now. Ashton deserved so much better - deserved to be loved and taken care of; deserved to be _happy_ \- and Calum seized on the only person who had a chance of getting through to the smaller boy now.

“Luke,” Calum blurted out stupidly, instantly catching Ashton’s attention. “When’s Luke’s dance show?”

Ashton let out a tiny, strangled laugh that sounded vaguely hysterical and Calum’s eyes burnt when he realised that the smaller boy was trying not to sob.

“Two days’ time,” Ashton said once he’d regained control of himself. Calum shuddered against the cold.

“I’m still coming.” Calum’s voice came out sharper than he’d intended; defensive and thorny because he was remembering dancing with the blond boy in the basement and… damnit, he couldn’t let Luke down now. Calum looked up and cringed; he fucking _hated_ that Ashton was gazing wordlessly at him like he was about to fall apart. “What are you looking at?!”

Ashton gestured to all of him with a trembling hand and Calum sagged, his breath rasping out of him like he’d been kicked in the gut when Ashton spoke next.

“Why don’t your parents do anything?” the older boy asked helplessly and Calum fought not to fall apart.

“Because they don’t care, Ashton!” Calum snapped and… and it didn’t feel as much like a lie as it should have done because his dad _didn’t_ care… and lying was the only thing Calum felt like he could do anymore. “They didn’t care about Mali and they definitely don’t care about me!”

Calum closed his eyes against the tears - fought not to see his mum’s pained face and the concern saturating the love in her eyes - and then his feet were slipping on the muddy leaves beneath him and his heart was pounding painfully inside him, and he was gone; running away as fast as he could - which wasn’t very fast at all anymore - as he tried to outrun the pain in his chest.

Dimly, Calum glimpsed a familiar blond boy approaching the curly-haired boy on the pavement - _Luke _\- which made him feel less guilty for leaving Ashton crying but... but Calum couldn’t stay there anymore. His hands were shaking and he was sobbing, and nothing was ever going to be alright again.__

He didn’t stop staggering until he was almost a mile away, sinking down shakily onto a low garden wall and jamming a cigarette between his lips. He smoked it as fast as he could, his head spinning at the nicotine, his empty stomach aching and twisting as he finished it even faster than _Aleisha_ did.

Calum rose shakily when he was done, as pale as a ghost as he drifted through the dark, empty streets. He wandered without looking where he was going and Calum’s heart clenched agonisingly in his chest when he realised he’d reached Graham’s house without realising.

The driveway was empty which meant the nurse was out working the night shift but Michael’s bedroom window was pushed open and Calum listened to the older boy singing with a lump rising painfully in his throat.

“ _Don’t talk; let me think it over. How we gonna fix this? How we gonna undo all the pain?_ ” Michael’s voice sounded rough with agony but it was still beautiful and Calum’s tears ran down his overheated cheeks like raindrops. He didn’t recognise the song; it must have been one Michael had written himself and that only made Calum want to cry harder. “ _Tell me, is it even worth it? Looking through a straight line; taking back the time we can’t replace._ ”

Calum’s vision flickered and he saw that night at the party; saw his hands on Michael’s hips and the red-haired boy’s cherry-coloured lips meeting his. He saw Michael’s beautiful face in the starlight that night in the park; remembered the warm skin of the older boy’s neck against his lips and his hands warm on Calum’s back.

“ _All the crossed wires, just making us tired. Is it too late to bring us back to life?_ ” Calum covered his mouth with his hands, stumbling backwards into the fence and leaning heavily against it as Michael’s fingers drifted over the steel strings of his guitar. “ _When I close my eyes and try to sleep, I fall apart; I’m fighting hard to breathe. You’re the reason, the only reason._ ”

Calum wanted to go up and knock on the door. He wanted to break it down and rush up the stairs, and hold Michael closer than he’d ever held anyone in his life because, _god_ , Calum had never needed it more.

“ _Even though my dizzy head is numb, I swear my heart is never giving up._ ” Michael’s voice slowed like he was growing tired and Calum heard it twisting, like the older boy was choking down _his_ tears too. “ _You’re the reason, the only reason..._ ”

Michael broke off with a soft cry and Calum felt sick at the sound of a heaving sob tearing out of the older boy. Calum flinched when he heard a sudden smash; a wordless cry of rage and pain blending together to create something utterly devastating.

Calum’s heart was pounding in his throat as he struggled, utterly lost and hurting.

There was a long moment of silence before Michael started to cry.

Calum wanted to walk in front of a truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for reading!  
> I hope you liked it :)  
> Please let me know what you thought by leaving comments/kudos <3  
> I love you guys x


	80. Make It Out Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum's dark eyes shifted restlessly over the otherwise empty car park and he felt sick when he heard the muffled sounds of friendly laughter drifting out of the hall. He felt like he was on another planet now… so far away from everyone else that there was no way back._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so _so_ sorry this took me so long to update.  
>  I'm... kind of losing it right now. My mental health is pretty awful at the moment and I lost all motivation to do pretty much anything but I'm trying.  
> I hope you guys won't hate this.

**_My lungs gave out,_ **

**_As I faced the crowd._ **

**_I think that keeping this up could be dangerous._ **

**_I'm flesh and bone._ **

**_I'm a rolling stone,_ **

**_And the experts say I'm delirious._ **

_\- Therapy, All Time Low_

 

Calum buried his shaking hands in his pockets. A crescent moon glowed dully in the night sky over the car park of Kings school and the dark-haired boy shuddered against the cold, struggling not to dwell on how this was Mali’s old school because thoughts like that were painful.

He could see a line of people waiting to be let into the hall, all of them clutching tickets and chatting to each other in cheerful tones as they laughed and smiled. Calum felt about a million miles away from them now.

He could see Ashton as he drew closer, dressed as neatly as he ever was with a slightly nervous smile on his face. He was bouncing from foot to foot as he lingered beside his boyfriend’s aunt Sharon, apparently very excited to see Luke starring in the dance show soon.

Ashton smiled when he saw Calum approaching but there was poorly-disguised concern in the older boy’s eyes and Calum ignored it, his heart rising painfully into his chest when Sharon stepped back because it brought Michael into view.

He was cast in sharp relief against the golden light spilling from the lit corridor behind them and his breath was clouding in the cool air in front of him. His crimson hair was a mess of cherry-red waves and his pale hands were balled into loose fists, the skin around his knuckles tightened to a pearly white when he saw his oldest best friend standing in front of him. Michael’s emerald green eyes were empty.

Calum couldn’t tear his dark gaze away from Michael’s face. All he could remember was the song he’d heard the older boy singing two days before - “ _When I close my eyes and try to sleep, I fall apart; I’m fighting hard to breathe. You’re the reason, the only reason._ ” - and, god, Calum just wanted to confess that he’d heard him… that _he_ was never going to stop fighting either.

The words caught painfully in his throat though, lodging there agonisingly as the death festering in his heart choked him.

Calum queued beside the others in a pained daze, barely focusing as Sharon and Ashton rambled on about Luke’s dance, and Michael stood beside the dark-haired boy in silence. The gap between Michael and Calum felt fathoms wide in that moment and, as they filed into the hall, he almost wondered what he was fighting for.

“I… I need to…” Calum gestured vaguely towards the door and Ashton nodded slowly, shooting his best friend a sympathetic look. Calum pointedly didn’t look at Michael as he hurried back the way they’d come but his eyes were prickling and he could barely wrestle the battered packet of cigarettes from his pocket when he finally made it outside.

“Fuck,” Calum said breathlessly as he leant back against the wall, jamming a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. His dark eyes shifted restlessly over the otherwise empty car park and he felt sick when he heard the muffled sounds of friendly laughter drifting out of the hall. He felt like he was on another planet now… so far away from everyone else that there was no way back.

“Cal?” a familiar voice asked and Calum’s heart seemed to shudder in his chest as he looked around wildly for who had spoken. His expression softened slightly when he saw Aleisha smoking in the shadows nearby and his momentary confusion faded when he remembered that Kings was her school. She probably had friends performing in the dance show too.

Ashley appeared behind her and Calum took a faltering step backwards; he’d spent too long forcing himself to avoid them that being close to them now made him feel raw.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Ashley said weakly but her back was straighter and she stood taller because of it. Calum took in the way she was squaring her jaw and the wild bluish-green of her hair as her eyes twinkled with their old fire and he knew - with no small amount of pride - that she was healing.

At least _one_ of them would make it out alive.

Ashley was shivering in the thin cardigan she was wearing and Aleisha rolled her eyes fondly as she nudged the older girl towards the door.

“You go sit down, Ash,” she said gently. “I’ll be in before the show starts, okay? We can all catch up later if… if Calum wants to.” The dark-haired boy pressed his lips together tightly, hanging his head as the tears in his eyes welled up.

He wanted to be with them so, _so_ badly but… but it felt wrong to let himself grow close to people when he felt like this… when he was _wishing_ for the things he was.

He didn’t want them to get hurt in the fallout.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said weakly and Ashley nodded as she slipped back inside, giving Calum’s shoulder a comforting squeeze as she moved past him. Aleisha scrutinised Calum carefully as she flicked the ash off her cigarette and Calum winced as his own burnt his fingers where he was still clutching it.

“You’ve been avoiding us,” Aleisha said softly but she didn’t look offended. On the contrary, her expression was sympathetic and entirely too knowing. “I haven’t seen you since that night at the park after… you know…” Her voice trailed away and Calum flinched as he remembered Michael’s dark bedroom; the searching hands and the lips trailing across overheated skin and… and losing himself… not being able to find his way back anymore.

“You can’t hide from _everyone_ who cares about you, Calum,” Aleisha said quietly and her voice was imploring. “That’s the worst idea ever.”

“I don’t care,” Calum said, even though it was a lie… even though he cared so much he felt like he was going to die sometimes. “It’s just easier this way.”

“That’s bullshit and you fucking know it,” Aleisha snapped instantly and Calum’s chocolate brown eyes widened in surprise when she drew him unexpectedly into a tight hug. Her hair smelt like apples and smoke as it tumbled around them, and Calum’s eyes burnt as he hugged her back fiercely.

Aleisha sniffed tearfully as her hands settled on his ribs through the leather jacket he was wearing and Calum drew back jerkily, fighting not to comprehend the pain in her eyes.

“You feel like you’re going to break,” she whispered and his expression twisted with pain as he ground his cigarette out under his foot. He folded his arms tightly across his chest, tried to make himself look bigger than he was to hide his confusion because… because how could he feel like that to her when he was so _fat_? And… and he _was_ fat… wasn’t he?

Calum didn’t know what was happening to him anymore.

He felt lost.

“I’m going back inside,” he said slowly and Aleisha simply nodded mutely, her eyes glassy with a sheen of tears as she reached shakily for another cigarette. It looked like she was going to be standing out here for a little while yet. “You shouldn’t leave Ashley alone for so long,” Calum added and Aleisha’s eyes flashed with righteous anger at how hypocritical he was being.

“Go sit down, Calum,” Aleisha said weakly, like the conversation had aged her. The dark-haired boy left in silence, glancing back to take in the way she had begun to pace around the car park, apparently too antsy to come inside yet.

Calum felt numb by the time he made it back to his seat but he was trying to keep it together for Luke. The blond boy deserved all the support he could get and, after that day dancing together in the basement, Calum just wanted Luke to have this one shining moment. He deserved it more than anyone probably.

Ever since that day at the beach, the blond boy had made Calum feel human again.

Luke deserved the whole _world_ probably. So did Ashton… and Michael.

It was getting a little stuffy in the hall now that the audience had been seated for a while and Ashton seemed to be feeling it as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, still looking restless and nervous.

“I need some air too,” the smaller boy said, rising and refusing any offers of company as he quickly strode down the aisle. Calum worried vaguely that Ashton was going to bump into Aleisha before he realised that there was literally nothing he could do about that.

The dark-haired boy felt _drained_ now and Calum dropped his head into his hands, burying his face there because it was the only way he knew to avoid conversation. He was sure he wasn’t imagining the concerned looks Sharon kept shooting him and seeing Michael sitting crumpled there like a broken puppet made Calum want to break down in tears.

Ashton returned while Calum was still sitting there in a daze but he barely noticed as the smaller boy dropped down into the seat beside him. Michael softly asked if Ashton was okay and Calum wanted to drag his gaze to Ashton’s face to make sure the older boy was alright too but he didn’t have the strength left anymore… not for anything.

The show started with a swelling of music and a dimming of the lights, and Calum watched with glassy eyes that slowly became aware as the dancers began to move because there was something fluid and beautiful about their movements as they twisted around each other.

“Focus,” Michael breathed softly beside him, shaking his head like he could force his anger and pain away by sheer force of will. “You promised Luke.”

‘ _We made promises once too_ ,’ Calum thought as he remembered that night in Graham’s kitchen with Michael, leaning back against the counter with their arms wrapped tightly around each other, too afraid to let go. Calum wondered how they could have fallen so far without noticing.

The music was building now and, through the fog of pain clouding his thoughts, the ghost of a proud smile touched Calum’s lips as Luke danced into the spotlight, moving like water or smoke or… or something ethereal with a grace _so_ beautiful that Calum realised Luke had never exerted himself that day in the basement at all.

The blond boy was dressed in a simple outfit of a black tank and shorts, and Ashton was watching Luke with dark eyes and his hands curled into fists, and the _love_ blazing on the curly-haired boy’s face made something wither inside Calum when he saw Michael watching the show with wide eyes.

The light was playing across Michael’s pale face and the emerald in his eyes glistened like he was fighting back tears, and the sudden realisation of just how beautiful he was made Calum’s heart beat faster. He knew no matter how messed up things were between them, Michael would always be beautiful to him.

The dance was growing wilder onstage and Calum thought of Black Swan for a moment; saw Luke sweep and fall gracefully when someone stretched towards him before he rolled back onto his feet again, leaping in an arc, and Calum thought of Nina - felt the **PERFECT** through his jeans - but it didn’t hurt anymore… not when the pride he could feel for Luke was burning away some of the darkness inside him, if only for a moment.

They waited for Luke in the brightly-lit reception area outside, lingering with the other families and friends of the dancers. The applause was still ringing in Calum’s ears as he stood there wishing vaguely for another cigarette but it was easier to ignore the awkwardness now because Sharon was asking him random questions that went a long way to distracting him.

Michael and Ashton were talking quietly nearby, and Calum only looked up when the red-haired boy suddenly declared: “Here comes Huke Lemmings!” in a tone _so_ obnoxious that it had to be forced. The blond boy blushed when he heard this but he looked incredibly happy when Ashton surged forwards to hug him tightly, stretching up on his tiptoes to give him a kiss.

“You were really amazing out there,” Ashton said earnestly and Michael pulled a deliberately disgusted expression which quickly became soft.

“You _were_ awesome though, Luke,” the red-haired boy said sincerely and Calum swallowed past the pain again, reaching to brush his knuckles lightly against Luke’s shoulder.

“Nice one,” the dark-haired boy said softly, hoping his expression showed how impressed he was since he didn’t have the words for it. The situation reminded him of when he’d used to go and watch his sister’s dance shows years previously and it had made a lump rise in his throat that was hard to speak past.

“I’m so proud of you, Lukey,” Ashton said softly but he looked up suddenly with something vaguely resembling guilty alarm and Calum soon realised why: Aleisha had just appeared in the doorway, lingering behind Ashley and a pretty girl who Calum _thought_ was called Sky.

Aleisha was watching Luke and Ashton critically, and Calum thought only someone who knew her very well would be able to see the pain buried in her expression.

Calum watched with no small amount of shock as Aleisha came to an uncertain stop in front of her ex-boyfriend, shooting a quick glance at Calum before she looked back up at the blond boy again.

“Hey, Luke,” she said and the blond boy looked nothing short of terrified as he clutched at Ashton protectively. Aleisha sighed but her smile faded on her face a little. “You don’t have to look so scared, Luke. I’m not going to start screaming at you again… and it’s okay.” Luke squeaked something incomprehensible at her and Aleisha rolled her eyes. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, it’s okay; I forgive you; we can still have a civil conversation together; blah-blah-blah - let’s still be friends, okay? I think that’s how this is supposed to go.”

Calum felt a momentary rush of anger but the wide-eyed look he exchanged with a stunned Michael went some small way to making him feel dazed again and all that was left behind was pride.

It just… it didn’t seem fair that she had to be so forgiving now, when Luke and Ashton had hurt her so much. Calum couldn’t forget that night when he’d found her sitting on the bench in her garden, crying like her heart was breaking itself apart in her chest with that solitary cut on her arm… but the cut had healed now and Aleisha had forgiven him, and maybe the fact that Calum couldn’t understand was the reason he was so fucking twisted.

Maybe Calum was just wired up wrong.

“Let’s give them some space,” Sharon said quietly and Calum jerked in shock when Michael’s elbow gently brushed his arm. Sharon had already left by now and was holding the door open for them, and Calum looked up at Michael silently, taking in the cherry-red lips and the weak frown he was wearing as his eyes raked over Calum’s face; like he was committing it to _memory_ almost… like he was afraid of losing him.

“Come outside, Calum,” Michael muttered, and he was trying to make his voice hard and angry but… but Calum could hear the softness in it; the gentle undertone that made him realise how vulnerable and _broken_ Michael really felt.

Calum glanced back over his shoulder towards where Aleisha was standing with Luke and Ashton but he didn’t say anything and, beside him, he felt Michael do the same. The pair of them followed Sharon out into the darkness and, although Ashley caught Calum’s gaze and shot Michael a wide-eyed look, neither of them spoke, acting like they didn’t know each other.

Sometimes it was easier to pretend.

“It’s so weird that you know her... and I can’t believe she just came over to talk to them like that!” Michael said when the two of them finally came to a stop near where Sharon had presumably parked her car. “I’ve gotta give her this. Aleisha has _balls_.”

“That’s sexist,” Calum said automatically before he went red at the sight of Michael’s ‘ _Duh_ ’ face.

Calum remembered that night at the park when they’d relived this situation before; remembered the whiskey and the cold breeze, and the warmth of Michael’s arms around him as Calum melted into the hug.

That didn’t even feel like it had _happened_ to Calum now…

It felt like another lifetime instead. Like he was remembering memories from someone else.

Michael blinked back the tears that had suddenly welled up in his eyes and Calum knew he was remembering too.

“What _happened_ to us?” Michael whispered and Calum flinched, felt his blank expression crack and crumble as the tears threatened to roll, and the fear on Michael’s face wasn’t enough to stop Calum falling.

Nothing was anymore.

“What happened to _you_?” Michael whispered.

The wind was picking up and the stars were bursting to life overhead but their light didn’t touch the dark-haired boy. Nothing did now.

“I’m just really tired, Mikey,” Calum whispered.

He turned away, leaving Michael standing there alone in the shadows, and that felt like a metaphor for Calum’s whole life right now.

“Tell Luke and Ashton I said goodbye please,” Calum told Sharon but his eyes stayed locked on Michael, drinking in his crimson hair and the snowy white of his skin… the desolate fire burning in his eyes as he watched his oldest friend leave him behind.

“Take care, Mikey.”

Calum walked off alone into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! (If anyone still is...)  
> Please let me know what you thought <3


	81. Sure-Fire Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Michael was tired of his red hair; tired of looking in the mirror and seeing the broken boy who had fallen apart at Calum’s touch._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in like half an hour and I don't know how it happened oh my god :')  
> But I hope it doesn't suck and that you'll like it!  
> And I’ve gotta thank Charlotte for the advice on hair dye and stuff. I suck at that sort of thing :’)

**_I'd do anything to save it._ **

**_Why is it so hard to say it?_ **

_\- Strong, One Direction_

 

Michael kept waiting for his feelings for Calum to fade but he wasn’t sure it was possible now. He didn’t think he could even deny them anymore.

He didn’t have to close his eyes to see Calum’s face haunting him these days. Now all he had to do was look around him because he saw the younger boy _everywhere_ now: in the tears racing each other down his cheeks; in the song lyrics he scribbled late in the middle of the night; in the swirls of blood dissipating in the water filling the sink as he washed his hands until the skin split open.

Michael knew Graham was deeply worried about him. He’d stopped insisting that his nephew was going to be okay now and Michael _wanted_ to be glad of it - at least his uncle wasn’t deluding himself - but Michael didn’t feel glad of _anything_ anymore… not when he could see Calum wasting away in front of him… not when Michael didn’t know how to _help_.

“Mikey?” His uncle’s voice was soft and Michael looked up from where he’d wedged himself on the windowsill, sore hands cradled in his lap so that he wasn’t touching anything as the moon rose in the sky outside. There was a plastic bag dangling from Graham’s hand and he was watching his nephew with sad green eyes.

“What’s in the bag?” Michael mumbled and Graham’s lips twitched humourlessly as he let himself into the room, sitting down heavily in the red-haired boy’s desk chair. He reached out to pat his nephew’s ankle gently and Michael fought not to shudder, closing his eyes tightly against the tears that he refused to let fall.

“I bought you some presents,” Graham said quietly and his heart seemed to break in his chest when Michael looked up at him properly, his hollow emerald eyes wide in the darkness as his blood-red hair stuck out messily around his pale face. “I’ll just… leave them here for you, okay? Leave you to it, mate.”

Michael barely spoke to his uncle about anything important anymore and the sudden guilt stung him painfully as his aching hand twitched towards Graham.

“Gray,” Michael croaked and his voice was little more than a whisper as his sore fingers curled into a fist again. “Gray, I’m so sorry.” Graham paused in the doorway, his shoulders slumped like he was carrying a great weight and, although he didn’t turn around again, Michael thought he might be able to feel his uncle’s relief.

“I love you, mate,” Graham said softly, one hand resting on the doorframe like he was struggling to hold himself up. “Try not to forget that.”

Michael realised what Graham had done as soon as his uncle shut the bedroom door carefully behind him. He’d left the bag there so Michael would have to brave looking through it himself and, little though he wanted to touch it, his curiosity was too strong.

Michael rose stiffly, stretching out his aching back from where he’d been sitting cramped up and swearing softly when it hurt. He switched the bedroom light on with his elbow before he climbed onto his double bed, pointedly not thinking about lying tangled in the sheets there with Calum because that was a sure-fire way to feel like he’d been punched in the chest.

Graham had tied the plastic bag’s handles together and Michael was almost _impressed_ as he fought down on a shudder, ripping the bag open. Michael emptied the bag’s contents out carefully onto the bed and he felt his heart swelling painfully in his chest as his exhausted eyes stung with tears.

Lying in front of him were a number of items that just went to show how _well_ his uncle knew him: there was a box of blue hair dye, some new guitar picks, a bag of multi-coloured elastic bands, a giant bar of chocolate (because, no matter how bad he might feel, Michael _always_ loved chocolate), and a little stuffed lion toy that made a watery smile stretch over the red-haired boy’s face without his permission.

Michael picked the lion up carefully, cradling it in his hands and managing not to flinch as he took in its dark whiskey-coloured eyes and the soft fur of its mane. There was a label around the lion’s neck that Graham had written ‘Daniel’ on and Michael smiled, pretending like there _weren’t_ tears rolling down his cheeks at how lovely a person his uncle was.

He looked at the presents again, sorting through them reverently and making sure to hold every single one of them because he at _least_ owed the nurse that much.

Michael’s eyes settled again on the box of blue dye and, after ascertaining that it was already close to eight in the evening, he gave a shrug and grabbed the box. Michael was tired of his red hair; tired of looking in the mirror and seeing the broken boy who had fallen apart at Calum’s touch.

Maybe the dye would help. Maybe he’d feel like someone else if he didn’t look the same anymore.

Michael’s eyes fell to the anchor tattooed on his thumb and he fought down against how lost he felt as he opened his bedroom door, fingers wrapped unwillingly around the cold metal of the handle.

“Graham?” Michael called softly from the landing and, although the anxiety saturating his uncle’s face when he appeared almost instantly at the bottom of the stairs _hurt_ the red-haired boy, Michael couldn’t help the small smile that curved his lips as he looked down at Graham. “Thank you for everything you’ve done tonight… and forever probably. I love you too, Gray.”

Michael felt lighter as he headed into the bathroom with the box of hair dye and, once he’d turned his music on and was well underway with the little bottle of bleach inside - which fortunately didn’t bother him all that much because he got to wear gloves - Michael didn’t feel so empty anymore.

He was sitting cramped in the empty bath tub in his boxers and he was kind of getting the bleach everywhere which wasn’t great but, after a long fifty minutes where he sang along to one of his calmer playlists and focused on getting all the red out of his hair, he was almost… _okay_.

He rinsed the bleach out and started on the dye, and at some point during the evening Graham came to sit on the floor outside and chatted to Michael through the closed door. They talked about TV shows and what Graham had been up to at work, and they expertly avoided any topics that might make Michael freeze up because that wasn’t what tonight was about.

This was about _healing_ and Michael had never been more grateful.

He left the dye on his hair for about half an hour in the end, wanting a nice strong blue because that was about as far from his old blood-red as it was possible to _get_. The blue made Michael think of ice and rivers and the sea - of water deep enough to swim in… to _lose_ himself in… something calm and clear and empty.

Michael craved it more than he could put into words.

Once he’d washed out the dye and towelled his hair dry - which may have resulted in him completely ruining the towel although hopefully Graham wouldn’t call him out on it - Michael pulled his boxers back on and swore faintly when he realised he’d forgotten to bring his pyjamas in with him. He quickly decided it didn’t really matter though; Graham had seen him at his absolute worst so barely dressed and slightly stained from the dye probably wasn’t going to do too much to emotionally scar the nurse.

Michael opened the door hesitantly and poked his head out so that his uncle could see him.

“What do you think?” he asked nervously and Graham’s face creased into a wide smile as he took in the light dancing timidly in his nephew’s eyes.

“I think it looks fantastic, Mikey,” he said firmly and it sounded like he meant it. “Are you going to use the guitar picks too?” Michael smiled wryly at that because he knew his uncle missed him playing music; Michael only usually played when he felt happy and care-free (or when he was hurting so badly that he couldn’t put it into words), and he thought Graham might have noticed its absence as his nephew slipped into an uncomfortable numbness.

“Maybe,” Michael said before he felt his heart lurch painfully in his chest as a memory of the _last_ song he’d played swam to the surface; he’d called it The Only Reason and it had resulted in him managing to break several of his guitar strings when the crushing pain of losing Calum had finally overwhelmed him. “I need to go to the music shop first though. I’ll do that tomorrow,” Michael decided and, when his uncle looked slightly crestfallen, Michael reached out hesitantly, letting his hand settle warm and reassuring on the older man’s shoulder. “I promise, Gray.”

Michael was true to his word the next morning and, when Graham looked up with pleasant surprise on his face as his nephew left the house with his freshly-dyed blue hair hidden beneath a beanie and his hoodie, Michael couldn’t quite find it in himself to regret it.

He listened to Green Day on the long walk into town but it helped to clear his head a little and Michael was glad of that. It reminded him of better times; of sleepovers back when his two best friends had still made him feel whole… before the light was gone.

Michael headed for the music shop but he was just crossing the plaza that stretched towards the promenade when his emerald eyes settled on a familiar couple sitting together on a bench across from him. They were sitting cuddled up together, both of them sharing a strawberry and chocolate crêpe, and Michael’s lips twitched into a weak smile when he saw Ashton kissing some chocolate from Luke’s mouth with a twinkle in his eyes that made Michael’s heart ache in his chest.

“Nice to see you two are just as sickeningly cute together out in public too,” Michael said teasingly once he was close enough for them to hear him. Ashton and Luke looked happy to see him and, even as they traded their usual silly jibes, Michael felt some of his stress falling away from him like water.

They chatted easily for the first time in weeks, talking about why they were in town and how much they liked Michael’s new hair - Luke called him ‘blue’ like it was a nickname to be proud of and Michael tried not to smile so hard his face hurt - but the blue-haired boy sobered a little when the conversation gradually became more serious.

Michael had made some stupid comment about being grouchy because he missed playing music but, when Luke suddenly piped up that their YouTube channel was still doing well, Michael’s heart clenched painfully and he almost had to sit down.

“Someone commented the other day and asked us to make another cover,” Luke whispered but Michael forced himself to look away, jaw squared because… because of  _Calum_. Michael tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t relish the idea of being stuck with the dark-haired boy in a confined space when things between them were so strained but… but maybe it was something more than that.

Maybe it was because the corrosive love tearing itself apart in Michael’s chest was _burning_ him.

“We can’t be a band without one of our members,” Ashton said sadly and Michael flinched, jerking like someone had sent an electric current through him. The blue-haired boy started to ramble out desperate excuses as he struggled to keep the pain from his face and Ashton watched him with sad hazel eyes.

“Do you still love Calum, Mikey?” the older boy asked softly and Michael hated the sympathy in Ashton’s eyes more than _anything_. The words hurt so bad because Michael couldn’t even understand why Ashton had to _say_ things like this sometimes and Luke looked _mortified_ now.

Michael’s shoulders slumped as all of the fight bled out of him. He knew Ashton had only asked because he cared; because he was worried about them. Michael just wished it didn’t feel like a kick to the gut.

“Of _course_ I do,” Michael said but he felt cold as the words left his mouth, like he’d lost something important by admitting them out loud.

Michael left quickly after that. He bought the new guitar strings in a daze and somehow managed to make it home in one piece, and he was deeply relieved when he discovered that his uncle had already gone out because Michael didn’t want Graham to see him looking like this… not after how much he’d helped him the night before.

Michael went upstairs straight away without taking his boots off, slumping down onto his bedroom floor and dragging his guitar towards him. It took him almost an hour to change the strings over and it hurt his fingertips quite badly but the pain of it distracted him from his other discomforts, and he was glad of that.

When Michael reached up onto his bedside table for the notebook and biro he left sitting there, he sent Daniel the lion tumbling down onto the carpet too and Michael pulled the toy towards him with a small amount of hesitation. The lion sat cradled in his lap and, with his guitar resting across his thighs, Michael turned to a fresh piece of paper and began to write.

 

_**You say you wanna, but do you wanna run away?** _

_**Your great escape, oh yeah.** _

_**Where you going? Always running,** _

_**Find a way to call it quits again.** _

 

Michael regretted telling Luke and Ashton how he felt now but, as the words spilt out of him onto the paper, he was glad he had this release; couldn't imagine going without one anymore.

He pictured a girl in his head as he wrote the words; tried to convince himself that if he pretended this _wasn’t_ about Calum then he could pretend someone else had written it too… that someone _else_ was feeling this agonising confusion now…

He could pretend that Michael was gone.

 

_**So look at me in the eye.** _

_**Is anyone there at all?** _

_**Is anyone there at all?** _

_**'Cause I'm not dreaming.** _

 

Michael wished he couldn’t see Calum in his mind’s eye as the words flooded out of him; wished he couldn’t only see them- _them_ - ** _them_ ** \- Michael and Calum… through it all.

Most of all though, Michael wished he didn’t hurt so badly that he felt like he was going to bleed to death from the pain of it.

He wasn’t surprised when the pain didn’t fade though.

Sometimes it felt like it was never going to _stop_.

 

_**So look at me in the eye.** _

_**Is anyone there at all?** _

_**Is anyone there at all?** _

_**‘Cause I'm not leaving.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3


	82. Without Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _There was no hope left inside Calum at all anymore; no forgiveness or peace or love… only agony and things too dark to name… things twisted enough to get lost in._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I really hope you'll all enjoy this one!  
> It's weird and a bit rambly but I liked it anyway? Also I wanted to use these lyrics forever and I got really excited to upload this one so I hope you'll like it!! <3

**_No, I’m not the type that you like._ **

**_Why don’t we just pretend?_ **

_\- Lies, Marina & The Diamonds_

 

Calum just needed to get out.

He spent the better part of Friday evening lying on his bedroom floor, too tired and weak to keep doing sit-ups although it wasn’t for lack of trying. He could hear his parents downstairs as they ate dinner, the quiet murmur of his mum’s voice and David’s reply dripping with contempt. Calum dragged himself into a sitting position again and his stomach muscles cramped painfully.

His phone chimed from where it was charging on the floor nearby and the dark-haired boy raised his head to look at it, taking in the incoming call from Mali with something that felt a lot like dread. He hadn’t spoken to her in weeks now and he wondered if she  _really_ cared anymore.

Bitterness welled inside him and Calum tried to feel triumphant when his sister gave up but he felt small as he lay there in his bedroom, the light overhead doing _nothing_ to combat the darkness inside him.

Calum’s thoughts wandered as he lay there and the dizziness he always seemed to feel got worse when he dragged himself painfully to his feet. He thought of Michael for a moment; of his newly-dyed blue hair and the hard set of his pale jaw whenever he saw Calum, like he was trying not to lose it again.

Calum hated that Michael felt like that around him now, hated that they couldn’t even be close to each other physically anymore because Calum had fucked everything up by confessing his _feelings_.

He wondered why that even surprised him anymore though. All Calum had ever done was fuck things up - that was what David liked to tell him at every opportunity - so it made sense that he’d managed to completely wreck this too.

Michael had been the only thing Calum had left to hold onto and the dark-haired boy felt like he was free-falling now, further than he ever had before.

His head was spinning as Calum staggered down the stairs and he was already reaching for the door handle - cut, burnt arms hidden under his long sleeves as he patted his pockets to search for his pack of cigarettes - when he heard Joy’s voice calling him from the kitchen.

The room smelt like their dinner when Calum appeared in the doorway and his empty stomach snarled as it twisted itself into painful knots.

“Where are you going, Calum?” Joy asked, her dark eyes exhausted in the too-bright lights of the kitchen. Calum swallowed past the nausea rising inside him, avoiding David’s almost _knowing_ look as Calum’s heart sank at the sight of a bruise smeared across his mum’s cheekbone.

“He’s going out to see that little girlfriend of his,” David sneered and, despite the flash of guilt Calum felt as Violet’s kind face swam before his eyes, he seized the excuse like a lifeline, shifting awkwardly on his feet and trying to make himself look embarrassed because he figured that would be more believable. It seemed to work too and, for the first time, Calum was _glad_ he was the way he was.

The last year had made him an excellent liar.

“Be safe then,” Joy said softly and David’s smirk made Calum’s skin crawl. “Don’t be out too late, love.”

Calum nodded at her gratefully, backing out of the room before he escaped out into the night. He couldn’t leave the house behind fast enough.

His relief quickly faded to numbness once he was walking along beneath the cloudy sky but Calum was too drained to miss it. He just pushed a cigarette between his chapped lips and kept walking, head down and hood up against the wind.

Calum passed Michael’s old house, took in the closed curtains and the sliver of light escaping between them. He still had no idea why the older boy had left home; only that _something_ bad must have happened for Michael to move out the way he did, with no warning and with such secrecy.

Calum caught himself suddenly, wondered why it was so impossible to stop caring about Michael when all it did was cause him pain. He remembered that day in the bathroom at school for a moment, remembered their argument and his hand striking the older boy’s cheek and… and the things Calum had wished for: Michael’s hands tangling with his; stunned relief as Michael collapsed into his arms; a promise from the older boy that everything was finally going to be okay before he drew Calum into a kiss.

Unfortunately, Calum’s life wasn’t like a film and losing the person you loved wasn’t beautiful or poetic. It was hard and cold, and it fucking _hurt_ , and a lot of the time Calum felt like he was going to drown in the pain of it.

They were just too damn good at destroying each other and the dark-haired boy knew Michael must realise it too. Calum wondered why they even tried anymore and then realised with a jolt of shock that maybe they didn’t.

Maybe they really _were_ both on the brink of giving up and the realisation terrified Calum.

He could picture Michael’s life without him for a moment: saw a nice house, great job, wonderful family… and here Calum was dragging Michael down into the quicksand with him, too selfish to realise that maybe there really _was_ some truth in letting the one you loved go.

Calum just needed to be strong enough to do it… _brave_ enough… but Calum had never been very brave at all. He could do this though… and even if he couldn’t, he still had to.

God, he was so deeply _flawed_ , so imperfect that it nauseated him, and Calum was momentarily glad that he had succeeded in pushing his loved ones so far away from him now. He didn’t want them to see him like this; a fat hollowed-out _husk_ that had nothing left to lose anymore.

Maybe _that_ was the real reason Calum wasn’t speaking to Mali.

He knew he couldn’t hide his feelings for shit and he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he’d dragged her back to Sydney now, just because she was fucking _worried_ about him or something. Calum couldn’t stand the idea of the inevitable sympathy or maybe even pity and it was the same at school too.

He knew he wasn’t like the other students there - too warped and broken to understand them anymore - but at least he could pretend around them; it wasn’t the same with his sister. She knew him inside and out, even better than his friends did, and hiding from them made Calum want to tear himself apart.

He flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette irritably, hating the tears stinging his eyes as he walked along beneath the inky sky. He thought again of the bruise on his mother’s cheekbone and Calum hated himself for the little sob that escaped him; hated that, when he closed his eyes, he saw his fist striking Charlie Barker’s face and his palm cracking against Michael’s cheek.

Calum didn’t think he’d ever be able to forgive himself for that, for the panic in Michael’s eyes and the way he flinched back when Calum took a jerky step towards him that day in the bathroom.

Fuck, if Calum got struck down dead by lightning right this second, he _still_ wouldn’t feel like it was enough.

There was no hope left inside Calum at all anymore; no forgiveness or peace or love… only agony and things too dark to name… things twisted enough to get lost in.

The streetlight up ahead was flickering and Calum gazed at it through glassy, tear-filled eyes. The jarring amber light was blurry and the end of his cigarette glowed cherry-red. Calum closed his eyes, felt how the lashes were sticky with tears as they brushed his cheeks, hated how weak and cold and insignificant he felt.

It reminded him of what Aleisha had said that night outside the pub, tipping her tear-stained face back to look up hopelessly into the starry sky: “ _It makes you feel tiny, doesn’t it? Looking up there. Makes you feel insignificant… like nothing you do ever really matters._ ”

Calum felt that way now, pictured her sandy hair fluttering and the eyeliner smudged beneath her soft eyes. He saw Ashley’s hair back before she’d dyed it brown, remembered her when her eyes had still crackled like firelight with mischief and love and _life_. He saw Luke’s mischievous blue eyes and the love saturating his face as he danced. He saw Ashton’s crooked smile and his dimples, and the giggles that tore out of him even when he covered his grinning mouth with his hand. He saw Michael’s piercing eyes and gentle smiles; remembered his crude jokes and breathless laughter, and the way he stretched his sleeves down over his hands in a way that made him look small and soft.

Calum thought of his best friends and, in that second, he thought he might be a little in love with _all_ of them. That only hurt worse though.

Calum didn’t understand why he was like this.

He just knew that he wanted it to stop but he wasn’t holding out much hope.

Things always ran away from him, sliding out of his control like feet on ice. That had been the case for as long as he could remember and it reminded him painfully of that night at the party.

Calum remembered it with awful clarity; the smoky air and the taste of beer lingering on his tongue; the stars in Michael’s eyes and the warm brush of his hand on Calum’s cheek; the swooping sensation in the dark-haired boy’s stomach when Michael started to kiss him, his tongue stroking hot against Calum’s as a little whimper escaped the older boy; the song that was playing as Michael took Calum slowly to pieces and couldn’t put him back together again.

“ _I don’t wanna be your friend. I wanna kiss your neck._ ”

That was the night that had changed everything. Calum could see it now, could feel the storm that had been hovering over them even then although they’d both been blind to it.

There were tears rolling down Calum’s cheeks again now and his heart was pounding unevenly in the fragile cage of his ribs, his trembling hands clenched into fists like they had been that day at the park, coiled tightly around the cold metal chain of the swing as Michael tore Calum to pieces like a hurricane with just two sentences: “ _I’m not the person you need, Cal. You deserve someone who can **love** you._ ”

Calum wondered why that sentence made him hate _himself_  when surely the more important question was if _Michael_ hated him now. Calum didn’t think he knew the answer but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to live with himself if Michael did, especially if it was all Calum’s fault.

The dark-haired boy would do _anything_ to change the past now. He thought he might regret running away from Michael forever.

The pain was overwhelming Calum, threatening to swallow him whole as his mind raced, throwing up image after image as he stamped his cigarette out on the pavement, his legs threatening to give way beneath him as he half-fell to sit on the kerb: shattered shards of glass protruding from the dusty ground like tiny, glittering gravestones; the panic in his stomach as Calum fled from Michael beneath a blood-red sky; the mysterious bruise on Michael’s cheekbone and the split lip that welled blood when he tried to smile at Calum what felt like a million years ago now.

Calum wondered if the agony would ever fade and he felt sick that there was only one way to know for sure. He wasn’t even certain he _did_ want everything to be over for good; he just needed a fucking _break_. His helplessness and fear were consuming him, and Calum was too tired and lost to delude himself anymore.

He knew he was too broken to be brave or wanted or fixed.

He was too broken to be _loved_... so why did he still crave it with every fibre of his being? Why did he still need Michael so much that he couldn’t breathe anymore?

The older boy was like a drug and Calum was utterly hooked.

He just wanted Michael to hold him; to cradle the younger boy’s face in his soft hands and promise that everything was going to be alright… but Calum was a trainwreck waiting to happen and Michael had ran too far to just come back to him now.

Calum’s feet were carrying him back towards home and, more than anything, he wished Michael was here with him. A lot of him had got lost in Michael and Calum wanted it back; wanted to fill the hollow in his chest. The older boy was a constellation of stars but Calum was just a black hole.

He wasn’t stupid either, no matter what David thought. He _knew_ his life was on the line now; knew his world began and ended with Michael's lips against his.

They had tried, Calum knew, or _tried_ to try which was almost the same thing.

He just wished the thought of it didn’t still send terror shooting through him even now, not because he was scared of loving Michael but because he knew it was going to tear him apart. Calum was _destroying_ himself and he just wanted the pain to stop.

He didn’t even know what he was so fucking afraid of anymore. What was the worst that was going to happen to him? Mali deciding she never wanted to come home again? Joy escaping in the night? David taking a swing at him too?

It would be nothing more than Calum deserved after all.

He fucking _despised_ himself.

His house came into sight and Calum’s heart felt like it wasn’t beating in his chest anymore. He could hear shouting coming dimly from inside and the curtains twitched in next door’s living room as one of his neighbours frowned out into the darkness, and Calum thought again of how much his parents had changed over the last year… like they had fallen too far to be afraid of what people thought of them now.

Calum wasn’t ready to go home yet.

He felt like he was _drowning_ and everyone else around him was just marvelling at the water.

He backed away from the house when the sound of breaking crockery hit him, slowly at first and then faster, stumbling back into the road as the hopelessness washed over him like an ocean.

The sky was pitch black overhead now and Calum was shivering in the cold, his teeth chattering as they sank into his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood.

He needed Michael, needed him like he needed water and air to breathe but… but Michael was gone now, igniting like a forest fire; like a rocket hurtling up into the sky, burning away into nothing… and if Michael was bursting into flames then Calum was nothing but smoke now.

Going, going, gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought :) <3


	83. Plummeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” the coach said at length, fixing Calum with a long look as the dark-haired boy watched him cautiously, his eyes wide and sad as he waited to hear what the older man would say. “I want you to know that the school offers a lot of support if you need to talk to anyone or if you’re dealing with anything difficult.”_  
>  _“I’m not,” Calum said immediately, looking away now so that the lie in his eyes would be hidden._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm so sorry it took me this long to update and that it's quite short - my head is a mess but I'm trying to keep updating and I've been working on a big oneshot for you guys too!  
> Fingers crossed you'll enjoy this update <3

**_I know I'll always ache with an empty heart._ **

**_I think it's time to run ‘cause I'm seeing stars._ **

**_I'm seeing stars; watch me fall apart._ **

**_I think of dying all the time._ **

_Joy, Ellie Goulding_

 

Calum felt empty.

Ever since that night when he’d stumbled through the darkness and realised that all of this _agony_ was nothing more than he deserved, Calum stopped trying to stay present. There was nothing but pain when he let himself actually _think_ about things; it was so much easier to simply float along, head barely above the waves as the numbness crawled over his skin like ice.

It felt very much like the lights were on but nobody was home and Calum knew he could exist like this. He just couldn’t _live_ like it.

Calum was so dizzy today; his head had been spinning sickeningly ever since he’d woken up that morning and his empty stomach felt like it was tearing itself to pieces inside him. He’d just got off the field after football practice but he was moving so slowly that everyone else had already changed by the time he got inside and the stabbing pains in his chest that had become apparent during the session weren’t fading.

Calum sank down heavily onto one of the benches, dropping his head into his hands and struggling to keep his groan in as the wooden panels rubbed his skin raw. Sitting down like this felt ridiculously painful and, not for the first time, Calum felt a fluttering of horror as he tried to comprehend just what he’d done to himself.

He felt so exhausted now; so completely and utterly lost as the dizziness inside threatened to overwhelm him. It reminded Calum of that day in the basement with Luke for a moment; the heart-stopping moment when his rare happiness was shattered when he felt like he was about to collapse.

It felt the same way when he’d been on the bridge that evening, the moment when his grip had slipped and he’d almost tumbled over the edge, plummeting down into the freezing water far below.

“ _God_ ,” Calum whispered in a hollow sort of voice because it had just occurred to him that, if he was back on that bridge right now, he might finally be brave enough to let go.

“Hood?”

Calum jerked upright in shock, eyes wide with confusion as he shook his head to clear it. The coach was standing in the doorway of the changing rooms, his arms folded tightly across his broad chest as he looked at the football captain with an unhappy expression on his weathered face.

“Sorry, coach,” Calum mumbled, running his spidery hand through his unruly curls uneasily. “Didn’t see you there.”

The coach stood in silence for a long time, simply watching Calum as the older man’s frown deepened. Heaving a soft sigh, the coach sank down onto the bench beside him, scowling down at his interlaced hands as he apparently struggled for words. Calum chewed on his bottom lip, glancing at the older man nervously.

“How are things at home, Hood?” the coach asked, his voice blunt and awkward although, when the younger boy glanced up, he saw that the older man’s eyes were blazing with determination. “Because I’ve noticed you’ve been looking so tired and… I just wanted to make sure…” He looked even more uncomfortable now but there was something worried in his eyes when he saw Calum’s expression becoming rapidly-closed off, his face haggard as he seemed to sink in on himself. “I’m sorry to ask but… are there any medical conditions that might make you ill-suited to continue as team captain?”

The awful falling sensation Calum could feel was suddenly twenty times worse.

The dark-haired boy thought that maybe the worst bit was when he jerked his head up - blinking back tears and praying that the coach wouldn’t call him out on it - and saw the terrible _sympathy_ on the older man’s face as he watched Calum struggle not to fall apart in front of him.

“I’m fine, coach,” Calum promised, several moments too late. “Honestly I am. I know there’s a game soon and I’m sorry if I’m letting the team down but -”

“You’re not,” the coach said abruptly, looking quite uncomfortable with how many emotions there suddenly were floating around the otherwise-deserted changing rooms. “Believe me, Hood, you’re not letting anyone down. I’d _tell_ you if you were.”

Calum gave a weak snort of laughter at that and muttered something vaguely agreeable under his breath, and the older man's lips twitched into an unconscious smile.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” the coach said at length, fixing Calum with a long look as the dark-haired boy watched him cautiously, his eyes wide and sad as he waited to hear what the older man would say. “I want you to know that the school offers a lot of support if you need to talk to anyone or if you’re dealing with anything difficult.”

“I’m not,” Calum said immediately, looking away now so that the lie in his eyes would be hidden. “Everything’s peachy. Just… please give me another chance to prove it?” The last part had a note of pleading in it and the coach frowned at him again, his expression worried and kind enough that it made a lump rise in Calum’s throat.

“Fine,” the coach said slowly, his expression gruff with suppressed emotions. “One last chance, Hood.”

He patted Calum lightly on the shoulder as he got to his feet but it nearly sent the younger boy sprawling onto the floor.

Calum’s heart was still pounding too fast in his chest but he thought it might be for another reason now and that was fear… _pain_ even. Calum couldn’t breathe past the sobs building in his throat and, on a whim, he decided to skip his last lesson that day once practice was over.

He’d basically written his exams off now and his parents had stopped asking him how his classes were going; David seemed more intent on either ignoring him or asking him if he’d managed to fuck anyone yet, and Joy was always distracted and exhausted these days, with fading bruises staining her skin and bags under her eyes. Calum never spoke to her about anything important anymore; it was too painful.

He slung his backpack over one shoulder and headed for the door, glancing around furtively before he darted across the courtyard and slipped out of the gate, hurrying through the car-park and out onto the main road.

Calum was jaywalking between two cars approaching from opposite directions when he caught a glimpse of Ashton doing much the same thing through the early afternoon traffic. Calum drew up short for a moment and nearly jumped out of his skin when a car blared its horn at him but he couldn’t stop the confusion blooming inside him as he watched the curly-haired boy slip away.

The older boy was heading inexplicably in the wrong direction… back towards _Calum’s_ house. It set alarm bells ringing as Calum remembered that night on the sofa with Ashton; remembered the older boy seeing his cuts and swearing that he’d tell someone if Calum didn’t get help… and Calum _definitely_ hadn’t done that.

“Surely not,” Calum breathed but he was too frightened to follow the older boy just in case.

Spinning on his heel and heading off shakily in the other direction, Calum fished a slightly crumpled cigarette and lighter out of his backpack, craving the nicotine and the dull burn in his lungs as he _forgot_ everything for a few blessed minutes.

Calum strode through town without a thought to where he was going, wondering if maybe he could go for a run and miss dinner.

If he could just go fast enough, maybe he could finally outrun himself.

Maybe Calum wouldn’t even realise he was _lost_ … or maybe he’d feel worse than ever.

Calum didn’t know anymore.

He had lost himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3


	84. Torrent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Joy had always written those warning signs off before – tried to convince herself that at least_ Calum _was fine when nothing else was – but she could see now that she’d done just about the worst thing possible. She’d neglected him and now her baby was falling apart, and she’d just stood there and let him._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry this took a little while but I hope you'll like it!  
> I was actually planning on combining this chapter with another part but they wouldn't tie in properly so I'm going to try to write the next update later on today.  
> I tried not to make this too similar to Maelstrom (chapter 115 in case you wanted to re-read it) so fingers crossed I succeeded!  
> I hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> Trigger warning for domestic violence.

**_If I believe you, would that make it stop?_ **

**_If I told you I need you, is that what you want?_ **

**_I'm broken and bleeding, and begging for help,_ **

**_And I'm asking you Jesus, show yourself._ **

_\- If I Believe You, The 1975_

 

The glass chinked against a plate already hidden in the bubbles filling the washing up bowl and Joy flinched, holding her breath as she waited to see if the sound would be enough to rouse her husband. David was currently sleeping in his armchair in the living room, making the most of his day off work while his wife cleaned the house from top to bottom in a vain attempt to avoid him.

Joy’s bruised ribs were aching painfully beneath her blouse but luckily her face had healed now; she could risk going out to the supermarket again to pick up groceries and that at least gave her an hour’s respite.

A knock sounded at the door suddenly and Joy flinched when she heard David rousing himself from the armchair, cursing softly as he stamped out into the hallway to open it. She removed her washing up gloves carefully, glancing down bitterly at her wedding ring as she listened, trying to work out who had knocked on the door.

Her eyebrow rose when she heard David mentioning Ashton Irwin’s name and she frowned down into the bubbly water as she flattened her blouse carefully, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she struggled to compose herself.

Calum never mentioned Ashton anymore… but then, Calum never mentioned anything.

Worry clawed at her heart as she realised the truth of this statement but, before Joy could do much more than grip the counter and fight against the tears boiling up in her eyes, she heard David calling for her, his voice almost sarcastic as he said: “Joy, come out here! Ashton says he’s worried about our boy!”

She hurried out as quickly as she could, forcing a smile onto her face although the concern was blazing in her eyes. What was wrong with Calum? He couldn’t have been taken ill or the school would have called her so perhaps –

David’s eyes flashed angrily and she inhaled shakily, her dark gaze settling on Ashton as he stood there uneasily, his expression deeply unhappy and his eyes exhausted.

“What are you worrying about, love?” she asked gently before David elbowed her, apparently not liking her approach. Joy swallowed, hating herself as she struggled to adopt the same almost _jovially_ disapproving tone her husband had been using. “And shouldn’t you be at school? Really, it’s not a very clever idea to miss lessons now, _especially_ so close to exams! I hope you’re not leading our boy astray!”

She watched the light in Ashton’s eyes flicker out as he realised that he would find no help here and her heart broke in her chest as Ashton hung his head, looking small and afraid.

“I… I just…” His voice was shaking and it trailed away into nothing, and Ashton’s cheeks flamed when David laughed coldly.

“Stop stammering, Ashton! We don’t bite!” he chuckled, making Joy shudder at the forced cheer in his tone. “Now tell us what’s wrong!”

“I don’t think Calum’s eating anymore,” Ashton said weakly, his voice hollow and faint. “I think he makes himself _sick_.”

David glared at those words, looking around furtively to make sure that none of the neighbours were present to hear. Joy felt like she in free fall. Dimly, she could feel a frown on her face but the panic inside her was burning everything as a number of things suddenly made perfect sense: that night in the kitchen when she had felt how thin her son was for the first time before he begged her not to mention it; that morning when she woke early and heard Calum being sick; the way he often ‘forgot’ his lunch for school and she found it buried in the bin later.

Joy had always written those warning signs off before – tried to convince herself that at least _Calum_ was fine when nothing else was – but she could see now that she’d done just about the worst thing possible. She’d neglected him and now her baby was falling apart, and she’d just stood there and let him.

“He gets so upset and – and I think he’s _hurting_ himself,” Ashton continued tearfully, wiping his hazel eyes hard with his fist. “And I – _Why are you shaking your head like that_?!”

Joy flinched as David froze beside her, glaring at Ashton so forcefully that Joy was surprised he didn’t crumple under the force of it. Her husband’s hands were curling into fists now and Joy knew she had to act quickly; otherwise David was going to end up knocking the boy out in the middle of the street.

“Ashton, don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?” she forced out, praying her tears stayed hidden. “Because you do seem to have a tendency to do that sometimes, and it would be a shame to over-exaggerate and cause problems for our boy.”

She felt so awful as the words left her mouth; hated that she had been the one to make Ashton look so lost when all he’d done was be a good friend to their son. David was watching Ashton icily now though and Joy could feel the bristling tension growing between the two of them as they measured each other up properly for the first time.

“It’s not nice to start rumours, Ashton,” David said coldly and the curly-haired boy watched him balefully as the resentment coloured his face.

“You don’t even _care_ ,” he said quietly and David fired up at once, and Joy knew it was the truth. David _did_ care… but only about what other people thought of them.

“Now that’s not true, Ashton!” her husband argued angrily. “How dare you suggest such a thing? Of course we care! He’s our _boy_!”

“ _Stop_!” Ashton gasped out but he looked like he was panicking now. “You say he’s your boy but he’s **Calum** _first_! He’s sweet and funny and one of the best people I’ve ever _met_ , and all you seem to care about is his grades and how he makes your family look, and it’s not _right_!”

David’s anger was a tangible thing in the air now but, almost like once he’d started he couldn’t stop, Ashton’s words continued to spill out of him in a torrent.

“You don’t even see that he’s literally _falling apart_ – you don’t even notice because you don’t care enough and it’s _disgusting_!” Ashton said sharply but his voice cracked and the tears in his eyes were spilling over. “Why do you think Mali keeps running away?” he demanded. “Because she can’t _stand_ it! And…” He faltered for a moment and Joy had to grip the doorframe tightly to stay upright now.

Ashton shuddered, heaving in a gasping breath as his eyes flickered between the two of them, anguished and desperate.

“If you keep acting like this, you’re going to lose Calum too,” Ashton finished softly. “But he won’t _just_ be running away...”

Every word Ashton had spoken felt like a stab of pain – a thousand times worse than anything David could inflict on her - because Joy knew it was the truth.

They had failed Calum so, _so_ badly. They’d failed _both_ of their children and Joy had tried to hide behind David’s abuse as an excuse but… but it _wasn’t_ because they were her babies and she’d left them to tear themselves to pieces.

“Why are you trying to cause trouble, Ashton?!” David snapped, his face blotchy and red with rage now. Joy wanted to stop him, wanted to hear more of what Ashton had to say but her husband must have seen it on her face because he reached out, gripping her arm so tightly that she could feel his fingertips bruising her as she fought not to whimper in pain. Ashton watched them helplessly.

“Our Calum is a good boy,” Joy insisted tearfully and the only reason she managed to force the words out was because they were true. David’s grip didn’t loosen though and Joy choked down a sob, gasping out: “He wouldn’t do anything _like_ the things you’re saying!”

Ashton seemed to collapse in on himself in front of them as his fingers knotted in his hair, almost tearing it out as he gazed at them both imploringly.

“ _Please_ ,” Ashton begged. “You’ve _got_ to believe me. _Please_.”

David stepped forwards like he was actually considering hurting the boy and Joy threw caution to the wind, grabbing her husband’s arm and praying that he wouldn’t go any closer.

“You’re not welcome around here anymore!” Joy told Ashton in a tight, frightened voice but the curly-haired boy was already shaking his head in dismay now, turning away as David mumbled bitterly beneath his breath and shoved his wife back into the house.

The door slammed shut and David’s fist caught her across the cheek.

Joy almost welcomed it as her back hit the wooden floor and David’s knuckles cracked against her face.

It felt like karma for how terribly she had let her children down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I hope you guys didn't mind reading Joy's POV for once - I doubt it'll happen again but the next chapter will be Graham's POV. I'm mixing it up a little bit :')  
> Again, thank you for reading! :)  
> Please let me know what you thought! <3


	85. Slipping Through His Fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _Graham felt like Michael was drowning and, no matter how desperately he tried to drag his nephew out of the water, the blue-haired boy just kept on sinking._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I actually updated twice in like 4 hours. That never happens oh my god :')  
> I hope you guys will enjoy this! It's Graham's POV which I enjoyed writing a surprising amount. Sorry for the angst though oops :')  
> (Also if you wanted to re-read, this chapter mirrors chapter 116 in Maelstrom)

**_You fell asleep in my car._ **

**_I drove the whole time but that's okay;_ **

**_I'll just avoid the holes so you sleep fine._ **

_\- Tear In My Heart, Twenty One Pilots_

 

Graham was exhausted.

Michael was bad right now – _really_ bad – and Graham didn’t know how to make him feel okay again. Michael looked like the life had been drained out of him and he was drifting, barely focused on anything anymore as his sore hands welled blood and he locked himself away in his room.

The nurse felt even lonelier than he had been before his nephew had moved in with him and that cut to the bone. Graham missed Michael more than he could put into words.

He’d do anything to make his nephew feel okay again.

Michael was at school now though hopefully; he’d been gone when Graham came back from his night shift but Michael’s lunch had been taken out of the fridge so presumably the teenager had gone to his lessons.

Graham wanted to make him something he loved for dinner; wanted to make sure they actually had a nice evening so he could prove to Michael that there were still good things in his life.

He didn’t want Michael to look so fucking _lost_ anymore because he could see it tearing his nephew apart and, after everything Michael had been through, Graham refused to let that happen.

He loved his nephew far too much for that.

Graham was just searching through the fridge for bacon, eggs, and cheese – he knew Michael loved pasta so he was thinking about making a carbonara – when his mobile rang in his pocket. Graham dropped the ingredients he’d managed to gather hastily onto the counter, his heart racing in his chest as he brought the phone up to his ear, instantly concerned that something had happened to Michael.

“Hello?” Graham asked before inwardly kicking himself for being so worried that he hadn’t even checked the caller ID. He could hear static over the line and then a soft sigh.

“Hey, Graham,” a vaguely familiar voice said. “It’s Ash. You’re not in the middle of something, are you?” Graham relaxed fractionally when he realised it was Ashton calling but it didn’t make him feel any happier; the curly-haired boy sounded upset and stressed, and Graham was worried about him too.

“Nothing important,” the nurse said, glancing regretfully towards the ingredients on the counter before his green eyes flickered towards the clock ticking quietly on the wall. It wasn’t quite half three yet so Ashton shouldn’t have been out of school; Graham wondered what had happened.

“I was just thinking about making dinner for Mike but that can wait,” Graham said unthinkingly, keen to fill the silence. He spoke without considering the implications of his words, too exhausted after his shift and how drained he felt after being so constantly preoccupied with worrying about his nephew.

Ashton made a small noise of surprise and Graham kicked himself, slowly becoming aware that he’d said too much. He was fairly certain Michael still hadn’t told his friends that he was staying here – he didn’t want to explain that he’d ran away because his mum was abusing him – and Graham prayed now that Ashton wouldn’t pick up on it. Unfortunately, luck didn’t seem to be on his side.

“Is he staying with you then?” Ashton asked curiously and Graham swallowed his curse with difficulty, leaning heavily against the counter as he quickly tried to work out what to say. Finally, the nurse decided that he might just lie about the timings, hoping that Michael’s stay with him would sound more like a casual thing than if Ashton found out Michael had been here for months.

“He’s been staying with me for about a fortnight now actually. This’ll be the third week but I’m not going to ask him to leave – it’s nice having him here and I know he’s been arguing with his parents a lot at home…” Graham stopped rambling with difficulty, aware with a horrible sinking sensation in his chest that – by the awkward silence on the other end of the line – Ashton hadn’t bought his excuse for even a minute.

“He… he didn’t tell you?” Graham asked weakly.

“No, he didn’t.” Ashton sounded cold but Graham thought he could detect a note of hurt in the curly-haired boy’s voice which just made him feel worse. He couldn’t believe he’d put his foot in it like that; Michael would be so _angry_ … if he seemed to feel anything at all anymore.

God, this was such a _mess_.

Graham felt like Michael was drowning and, no matter how desperately he tried to drag his nephew out of the water, the blue-haired boy just kept on sinking.

“Maybe he just didn’t want to worry us,” Ashton said quietly, apparently trying hard to convince himself as he brought Graham back to the present. “Is he okay today? We missed him at school.”

Graham’s heart sank in his chest when he heard that. If Michael hadn’t been in class then… then where was he? Where was he spending his days when he wasn’t lying limply on his bed, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling?

Graham was so terrified of losing him but he could _feel_ it almost; Michael was slipping through his fingers like sand.

“He didn’t show up?” Graham asked weakly, trying hard not to sound as frightened as he felt. “I hope he’s okay.” The words slipped out before he could stop them and Ashton sniffed over the line. “I’ll give him a call after this; check he’s alright. Maybe he just needed some space.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Ashton’s voice trailed away before his breath suddenly caught, almost like he was steeling himself for something. “Graham,” the curly-haired boy said, speaking quickly before he could lose his nerve. “Do you know about Mikey and Cal?”

Graham’s shoulders slumped as he processed those words because they cut him to the core; this was the reason Michael was breaking apart like dust in the wind… because he loved _Calum_.

“Yeah,” Graham said heavily, wiping his eyes roughly with his fist before he moved to sit down heavily at the dining room table, too tired to stand up anymore. “I think that’s part of the reason Mike left, actually,” the nurse added quietly. There didn’t seem to be any point in lying anymore – Ashton had already seen through his weak excuses – but he hadn’t been prepared for the hurt sound that tore out of the curly-haired boy.

“Ash, I didn’t tell you that to worry you,” Graham said gently, his voice soft and sad. “And… and surely it’s _better_ now? At least he _chose_ to come here and… and I’d never judge him.” Briefly, Graham remembered the fearful love in Luke’s eyes as he cradled Ashton gently that awful night in the hospital. “I’d never judge _any_ of you.”

Ashton sounded like he was crying now and Graham felt about a thousand years old as he propped his head up with his palm, his eyes prickling unpleasantly with tears.

“Ash, how are you doing, mate?” Graham asked softly. He remembered the night he’d first met Ashton for a moment; remembered the dark circles under the curly-haired boy’s eyes as he struggled to look after his two younger siblings; concussed and exhausted, and _hurting_.

“Better than I was the _last_ time I saw you,” Ashton said and Graham flinched as he remembered what had happened to Ashton behind the nightclub; remembered seeing the curly-haired boy standing there unresponsive in his boyfriend’s arms; remembered the blood spilling from Michael’s split lip and the hopeless look in his tear-filled eyes as he blamed himself and… god, Graham felt sick.

Still, Ashton needed him right now and the nurse couldn’t let himself get caught up in the horror of what had happened. He needed to be present and that meant focusing on what the curly-haired boy was saying.

“Well, that’s something then,” Graham said weakly when he processed Ashton’s words. He felt uneasy though and it didn’t take a genius to work out why that was. “Ash, it’s not that I’m not pleased you called because I am – I _promise_ I am. It’s great to hear from you and make sure you’re doing okay but… but you _never_ call which… which kind of leads me to think that… y’know… something might be _wrong_.”

Ashton was silent for a few seconds and Graham forced himself to stay focused; fought not to remember Michael’s panic attack in the car on the way back from the hospital; the violent shudders tearing through him as he fell apart in Graham’s arms on the floor of the bathroom; the choked voice he spoke in when he told Graham that he wasn’t good enough… that it was _killing_ him.

Graham thought he might know how Michael felt now.

Feeling powerless when someone he loved so much was suffering was absolute agony for Graham.

He didn’t know how to fix things anymore but he was trying. God, he was never going to stop.

Ashton inhaled shakily over the line before he broke the strained silence between them.

“You’re right,” the curly-haired boy said at last, setting warning bells ringing in Graham’s head as Ashton struggled for breath. “There _is_ something wrong.”

Graham was afraid Ashton had hurt himself; recalled how empty the curly-haired boy had looked that day in the hospital as he’d hidden the cuts beneath his sleeves, almost malnourished because he’d been giving everything he had to his younger siblings to keep them going. Graham had marvelled at his strength then but that felt a million years ago now.

Ashton didn’t sound strong anymore; he sounded _lost_.

It reminded Graham of that night when Ashton, Harry and Lauren had come to stay at his house. Their mum had been in the hospital and their grandparents had been out of town, and the Irwin children had had nowhere else to go. Graham had stumbled across Ashton sitting numbly beside the hallway window in the middle of the night, bathed in moonlight as the tears trickled endlessly down his face.

The nurse had given him a tissue and sat with him in companionable silence, and when Graham had finally broken the silence to make Ashton a promise – “ _Please know that if you ever do want to talk to someone who doesn’t know you all that well and who won’t ever take it any further without your permission, I’m always here._ ” – the curly-haired boy had listened.

Apparently Ashton was finally taking him up on that offer.

“It’s all going to be okay, Ash,” Graham said soothingly, fighting down against the pain and poorly-suppressed panic he felt. “I’m not going anywhere. I _promise_. Just tell me what’s wrong, okay? Then we can fix this.”

Ashton sniffed tearfully again and Graham’s heart gave a painful lurch in his chest.

“You know how… how once you said that I could talk to you and that you wouldn’t say anything if I didn’t want you to?” the curly-haired boy began weakly, proving that he was on the same page as the nurse. No other words were forthcoming and, for the first time, Graham felt a thrill of fear that something bad might be happening to Ashton right now.

“Yes,” the nurse said, _definitely_ panicking now although he was doing his best to hide it. God, what if Ashton needed an ambulance? What if he’d hurt himself too badly or something terrible had happened to Luke or –

“I… I’m not actually calling about me,” Ashton whispered and that brought Graham up short because… he didn’t know what was going on now. He felt _uncertain_ and it was a distinctly unpleasant sensation. “I… I’m scared for _Calum_.”

Graham’s breath punched out of him at Ashton’s words and he knew abruptly that this conversation was about to take a turn for the worst. Maybe he was finally going to learn the meaning behind Michael’s terrible silences; behind the dark-haired boy’s hollow eyes and trembling hands.

Graham couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Calum properly; maybe that day when he came to stay over and they picked him up during Michael's driving lesson... but even then the pair had stayed upstairs, getting up to god knows what. Graham hadn’t really _seen_ him.

“What’s wrong with Calum, Ash?” Graham asked carefully, his voice slightly strained although hopefully he was doing a good job of masking his distress. “Because Mike said he was worried that he was too thin now but I haven’t seen Calum in _months_ and… and he seemed _fine_ then.”

A sob escaped Ashton and Graham’s heart broke in his chest.

“He’s not fine now,” Ashton whispered and Graham swallowed hard past the lump in his throat, knotting his fingers tightly in his hair as he tugged at it in his stress.

“What do you mean, Ash?”

The curly-haired boy inhaled shakily and Graham almost hoped he wouldn’t answer. He had a feeling this was about to make everything ten times worse and the opportunity for plausible deniability was flying out of the window with every strained second that slipped past.

“I’m scared Cal’s going to _die_ ,” Ashton said unevenly and Graham’s eyes widened in horror as he stared blankly at the opposite wall, aware that Michael could come back home at any time and find his uncle in this state. “He makes himself _sick_ , Graham, and I don’t know what to _do_ –”

Ashton’s voice broke and Graham heard the ragged pant of his breaths, realising with a sick feeling in his stomach that the curly-haired boy was having a panic attack. Graham’s mind was racing a thousand miles a minute now as he struggled to process everything he’d just heard but that was in the back of his mind; more pressingly was the need to calm the teenager down before he got so upset he hyperventilated or managed to injure himself.

“Ashton, _please_ calm down, okay?” Graham said in the gentlest voice he could manage. “Good, that’s _really_ good.” There was still a note of poorly-concealed worry in his tone and Graham shook it away like water, pretending he was in work because at least that way he’d be in the right mind frame to deal with this.

“Just… deep breaths for me, yeah? That’s good, mate. That’s really good.” Graham felt slightly calmer now and he relaxed when he heard Ashton’s breathing coming a little easier over the crackly phone line. “Right, okay, you just focus on controlling your breathing and I’m gonna talk at you, okay?” He heard no argument and pressed on, heartened. “Good job. Okay…”

This was going to be the tricky bit; Graham needed to think fast and he couldn't say anything that might trigger Ashton or make him feel worse because that would be incredibly unhelpful. Then he might have to go out and _look_ for Ashton to make sure he was okay, and that could result in Graham missing Michael when he finally came back from wherever he’d been hiding all day. He couldn't win.

“Ash,” Graham said carefully, his tone soft. “What Calum’s suffering with right now is _awful_ but you can’t let it hurt you. You’ve got to be strong, yeah? So just keep breathing for me, nice and steady. That’s really, _really_ good, Ashton." Graham inhaled shakily as he ordered his thoughts. "Okay, so what we’re going to do now is we’re going to talk to Calum’s parents and –”

“They don’t care!” Ashton cried, cutting across him as another weak sob tore out of him. “I tried!”

Graham’s heart was tearing itself apart in his chest as the unfairness of the situation washed over him like a shadow.

“I’ll contact my supervisor at work then,” he said, somewhat desperately in his opinion. “Hopefully she’ll be able to point me in the right direction of who we should contact about this. We don’t want to get Calum sectioned obviously but… but we _do_ need to keep him safe and if that’s the only way to do it...” Graham’s voice trailed away as he thought through the scenario in his head; there was no guarantee it would actually help but at least it was a start and maybe that was all they could hope for now.

Ashton was still crying over the phone but the sound was softer now… weaker like he was too tired to panic so much.

“Cal’s gonna _hate_ me,” the curly-haired boy whispered hopelessly and Graham swallowed against the lump rising in his throat as a tear leaked down his cheek.

“Ash, you’ve done the right thing in telling me,” the nurse reassured him softly. “You might well have just saved Calum’s life. Now – hey, Ash, keep breathing for me, okay? Focus on it. Nice and slow for me, okay?” The curly-haired boy inhaled heavily and Graham bit his lip, concern growing. “Good. Keep doing that.”

He felt like the conversation had aged him a hundred years since he’d answered the phone a few minutes before and the next words out of the tormented boy’s mouth only made him feel worse.

“Are you gonna tell Mikey?” Ashton asked sadly, his voice faint. Graham closed his eyes.

“I…” He didn’t know what to say. The right thing to do was there, hovering just out of his reach, but Graham didn’t have time to weigh up the pros and cons now. Ashton was waiting for an answer and Michael might be just seconds away from coming back home, and Graham couldn’t let this happen.

He couldn’t focus on how lost he felt or how appalling the news of Calum’s illness was when he knew how much Michael was struggling. Graham thought again of how it felt like his nephew was drowning and he knew he was right; Michael was already sinking. He wouldn’t be able to stand another hit like this.

“Not right now,” Graham found himself answering, his voice weak and exhausted. He _ached_ but it didn’t matter; he knew he couldn’t put his nephew in this position, no matter how difficult it might be for himself. “Not _yet_.”

Ashton sniffed tearfully and Graham let his cheek fall to rest on the cool wood of the table.

“I’m sorry,” Ashton cried and the bitterness welled on Graham’s tongue like poison at being put in this situation.

“Don’t apologise, Ash,” Graham said and, beneath the pain and anguish he could feel, the words were sincere. “You’ve done nothing to be sorry for.”

Graham tried to end the call after that, aware that – if he was feeling this drained himself – Ashton must be on the point of passing out after the emotional stress he’d been through after his panic attack. He successfully got Luke’s aunt’s mobile number from the tearful teenager and called a concerned but grateful Sharon to warn her that Ashton was upset. None of it felt like enough though.

The front door opened a few minutes later and Graham’s heart leapt painfully in his chest as he waited with bated breath to see what his nephew would do.

After a few moments, Michael appeared in the doorway. His cheeks were flushed and his haunted eyes were too bright in his tired face, and the nurse hated that he could see Michael burning out right in front of him.

“Are you okay?” Michael asked, his voice rough like he hadn’t done much speaking today. Graham saw that his nephew’s face was pale and pinched when the blue-haired boy grew closer, and Michael was staring at Graham like he didn’t know what was happening anymore. “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?”

Graham choked, biting down on his bottom lip hard enough that he could taste blood as Michael watched him with something like fear. More than anything, Graham didn’t want to lie to him but… but the truth would hurt too badly and he’d made Ashton a promise so, little though he wanted to, Graham straightened up and shook his head slowly.

“It’s nothing, mate,” he said softly, feeling deeply relieved when his voice barely shook. “Work was just hard today. We lost someone.”

Graham wished the words didn’t have a ring of truth to them.

In that moment, he wished for so many things.

“I’m so sorry,” Michael whispered but his expression cleared now as he gestured hesitantly towards the stairs. “I’m gonna go shower… Will you be okay, Gray? Did you want to talk about it first?”

Graham’s eyes swam with boiling tears as something cold and painful seeped through his chest like ice. He hated that he’d been put in this position; hated himself for lying to his nephew; hated that any of this had even happened in the first place.

Michael deserved so much better.

“I’ll be fine,” the nurse said softly, cringing internally as a tear ran down his overheated cheek. “Just… you go shower, okay? I’ll make dinner while you’re up there.” Graham hung his head guiltily as his nephew stepped hesitantly out into the hallway again.

The nurse waited until Michael was already halfway up the stairs before he quietly called out that he loved him.

When Michael said it back, Graham couldn’t hold the tears in anymore.

The nurse stayed sitting there at the table once the bathroom door was shut, just staring down blankly at the wooden surface and the placemats Michael had helped pick out a few weeks before. They had landscapes on them and Graham’s gaze settled on the mountainous image, taking in the forest of pine trees and the deep blue of the lake before they blurred with the tears welling up in his eyes.

All Graham could see as he stared at the water was Michael sinking into it, too deep for his uncle to save him anymore. Graham wasn’t going to stop trying though; while there was breath left in his body, he wasn’t giving up.

Michael wasn’t lost yet.

Graham wouldn’t let him be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3
> 
> Things between Calum and Michael are about to get... interesting (and maybe not in the way you expect).


	86. Broken Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“You didn’t,” Calum said quickly, his voice almost frantic now because the panic was coiling inside him and he hated that Luke was blaming himself for saving one of Calum’s oldest best friends. “He’d be dead without you.” His words lodged themselves painfully in his throat but Calum forced himself to continue. “You were there for him when he needed you most and… and I can never thank you enough for that.”_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so short and it's probably awful but I feel so low at the moment and I can't find the motivation to do much of anything so... I don't know. I tried.  
> I hope you don't hate it.

**_I can't help him;_ **

**_Can't make him better._ **

_\- Shades Of Cool, Lana Del Rey_

 

Calum couldn’t breathe.

The sky was dark outside his bedroom window and the pain in his veins burnt scalding. His father had been pacing angrily around the living room all evening and Joy had shut herself away in the bedroom. There were three missed calls from Mali lighting up his phone screen but Calum couldn’t move to text her.

He couldn’t even find the strength to sit up anymore.

He’d walked for hours and hours earlier, shambling through the streets like a zombie, and he’d had a voicemail from Luke when he finally made it home. The blond boy’s voice had been tight with panic, so strained and terrified that Calum could barely make sense of it, and he’d only been able to make out every few words; something about Ashton and a hospital, and Luke almost being too late.

Calum dialled the blond boy’s number with shaking fingers and his heart sank in his chest when he heard how _hollow_ Luke sounded as he answered.

“I… I got your message but… I couldn’t work out what you were saying,” Calum said softly, his voice apologetic and hushed. “What happened, Lukey? Are you and Ashton okay?”

Luke let out a soft choked sound over the phone and Calum covered his mouth with his hand as a lump rose in his throat, his dark eyes welling with tears.

“Ash got hurt. _Really_ hurt,” Luke whispered tearfully but he still sounded just as empty… _lost_ almost. It made Calum’s heart race painfully. “He went back to his mum’s and…” The blond boy broke off, his voice becoming strangled, and Calum’s breath caught in his throat as the tears boiled over.

“What happened to his mum, Luke?” Calum whispered and his head was spinning so badly with his usual dizziness that he felt like he wasn’t even present anymore. He felt like he was falling.

“She’s dead, Cal,” Luke choked out, his breath rasping unevenly over the phone, like maybe he was about to cry. “She’s dead and… and Ash found her and… and he fell and got cut, and he… he almost bled to _death_ , Cal. I almost _lost_ him.” Luke’s voice was shaking and his sob sounded broken over the line. “I almost didn’t get there in time,” the younger boy breathed.

“But you did,” Calum whispered, fighting so hard not to lose control as the words slowly sank in… as he processed how close they’d come to losing Ashton. The unease in his veins flared into something that was almost grief but Calum struggled against it. “You saved him, Lukey,” the dark-haired boy murmured, pressing his wobbling lips together hard for a moment as he choked down on a sob. “You didn’t let him down. You’re the reason he’s still _here_.”

Luke was crying softly now - Calum could hear it over the crackle of static - and the dark-haired boy’s heart ached with pain and love.

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” Luke choked out, his voice rough with tears. “They say he’s gonna be fine because they got to him in time… and that he’s stable but… but I can’t stand the thought of losing him, Cal. I _can’t_! And… and he almost died because I was nearly too late! I was nearly too late and I’m so _sorry_ because I know I wasn’t good enough! I let him down - I let you _all_ down - and -”

“You didn’t,” Calum said quickly, his voice almost frantic now because the panic was coiling inside him and he hated that Luke was blaming himself for saving one of Calum’s oldest best friends. “He’d be dead without you.” His words lodged themselves painfully in his throat but Calum forced himself to continue. “You were there for him when he needed you most and… and I can never thank you enough for that.”

Luke just cried softly in answer and, in that moment, Calum wanted nothing more than to pull the blond boy into a hug. He wanted to tuck Luke’s head under his chin and hold him so tightly that the younger boy forgot how lost he felt… forgot how much he was hurting…

God, Calum was going to fall apart.

“I love you, Lukey,” the dark-haired boy said quietly. The words surprised him but he knew they were true. “Ash is going to be fine and so are you, okay? You’ve got each other and you’re going to be okay, and we’re going to be here for you both, yeah? You’re not alone.”

“Thank you, Cal,” Luke said softly, his voice weak with exhaustion now although he sounded a tiny bit calmer. “I love you too. I’m gonna go now, okay? Go sit with Ash again…” Luke exhaled shakily and he sounded a little stronger. “Goodnight, Cal. I… I’ll let you know how he’s doing once he’s awake.”

“Take care, Lukey,” Calum said thickly, still holding the phone tightly to his ear as he heard the steady beep. The tears began to slide faster down his cheeks as his mobile slipped from his limp fingers to fall onto the carpet and… and now he was falling apart in bed. His breath was catching painfully in his throat and his sobs were choking him, and when the nausea rose terribly inside him it felt almost expected.

He lurched into the bathroom with his hand clapped over his mouth, and Calum didn’t even think it counted as _purging_ because… god, because Ashton had nearly _died_ and he’d found his dead mother’s body and… and Calum had been in her _house_.

He’d sat at the kitchen table with her as a seven year old and giggled at Ashton, and she’d told them jokes and made them laugh, and smiled indulgently when Michael spilt his drink all over the table and flushed scarlet… and then everything had faded to grey and… and now she was dead and Ashton was unconscious, and Luke was falling apart in a hospital miles away, and Calum didn’t think he was ever going to feel okay again.

When he finally dragged himself back into his bedroom, his phone was lit up with another incoming call. Calum’s heart sank as he dropped down onto his knees beside it but he froze when he saw that it was Michael calling him.

The dark-haired boy answered it unthinkingly and his heart tore itself apart when he heard the blue-haired boy’s voice.

“Cal,” Michael said softly. “I’m sorry for calling. I know we… I know it’s hard…” His voice was shaking and the tears were audible. “Cal, did Luke call you? Did he tell you what happened?”

“Yeah…” Calum drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping an arm around them loosely and burying his face there as the tears began to fall again. “Mikey, I… I don’t know what to _do_ ,” the younger boy choked out.

Michael made a sound like he’d been punched.

“Cally, it’s gonna be okay. Luke says he’s stable and that he’ll wake up when he’s ready, yeah? He’s gonna be okay.” Michael’s voice was soothing and Calum let himself be calmed by it as the older boy continued hesitantly. “I just… wanted to call you. I know you must be cut up by this too and…”

Calum flinched violently at the words, even though he knew Michael didn’t know the effect he’d had - _couldn’t_ know because Calum was too afraid to show him the scars lining his skin - and the older boy must have heard Calum’s pained intake of breath because he sounded like he was crying now too.

“Cal, I just… need to see you,” Michael said desperately, his voice wet and small. “I’m so scared and… and I wanna see you because… god, we almost _lost_ him, Cal. We almost lost him and I miss you, and I feel so useless and… and I don’t know who else to talk to. I don’t have anyone else.”

“It’s okay,” Calum whispered, speaking almost without meaning to now. It didn’t even feel like his lips were forming the words anymore; it felt like he was a ghost now and some other broken boy was crying out the words. “I’ll meet you. I will.”

Calum felt like he was so lost up in his head right now and he’d take any distraction he could get.

Even one as agonising as Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you thought if you didn't hate it <3


	87. Fell By The Wayside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum couldn’t even remember the last time they’d spoken to each other before this. He couldn’t remember if they’d argued or kissed or fought or if Calum had fallen even deeper in love with him. It was all just so much water under the bridge and the wave was threatening to wash everything else away._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update - and that I haven't been able to update anything else recently - but I'm not in a great place right now and writing has been a huge struggle. Charlotte helped me so much though and I just wanted to say a massive thank you to her for helping me <3  
> Fingers crossed you like this!!  
> It was actually more fluffy than I'd planned which I wasn't expecting...  
> Enjoy :)

**_I won't, I won't, I won't cover the scars;_ **

**_I'll let them bleed,_ **

**_So my silence, so my silence won't be mistaken for peace._ **

**_Am I wrong for wanting us to make it?_ **

**_Tell me your lies,_ **

**_Because I just can't face it._ **

_\- iT's YoU, Zayn Malik_

 

Calum met Michael at the end of his road beneath the lamp post.

They’d met here once before on a different night entirely… one that felt a million years ago now. It had been a warm late summer evening with whiskey and blossoms. They’d lay together under an apple tree and Michael had wanted to kiss him.

That felt like another lifetime, one that was soft and sweet with hope. Everything was brittle and frozen now, and any trace of warmth had been long-since burnt away.

Michael looked more lost than Calum had ever seen him when the dark-haired boy came to a wary stop in front of him. Michael’s blue hair was a mess across his forehead and he looked so bone-tired that Calum was worried he was going to crumple right down onto the pavement. His hands were cracked and sore, and Calum wanted to reach for him but he knew he wasn’t allowed anymore.

It didn’t matter that they were standing in front of each other. Calum felt like there was a mile-wide gap between them that was only getting wider with every passing second -

And then Michael choked out Calum’s name and the dark-haired boy couldn’t maintain his distance anymore.

He flung his arms tightly around the taller boy’s shoulders with a muffled sob and Michael cuddled him so close that Calum’s feet almost left the floor. The scent of rain hung heavy in the air but all Calum could smell in that moment was the comfortingly familiar fragrance of Michael’s skin - coconut shampoo, chocolate, coffee, laundry detergent, talcum powder.

Calum still loved him so much he wanted to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” Michael gasped out and it took Calum a moment to process that the blue-haired boy was crying; that Michael’s pale, sore hands were resting on Calum’s ribs and that the younger boy hadn’t even panicked about it. “I’m so, _so_ sorry, Cal. I know you don’t want to see me right now. I _know_ but… but after what Luke said about Ashton… I… I _couldn’t_ …”

Michael’s voice trailed away into tears and Calum held him tighter for a moment, burying his face in the curve of the older boy’s neck as his dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. Only Michael’s hands were keeping him upright and the cuts on Calum’s arms were burning but he barely felt them beneath the weight of their combined grief.

“I know,” Calum said softly, choosing not to respond to the rest of the older boy’s words. “I know, Mikey. You’re scared but… but it’s alright." Calum swallowed audibly past the lump rising in his throat. "So am I,” he confessed in a whisper.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Michael asked desperately and it didn’t seem to matter that he’d been the one to reassure Calum on the phone earlier. All logic had gone out of the window now and it was only Calum’s fingers curling securely through the taller boy’s icy blue hair that anchored him there.

“He will be,” Calum said, his voice determined but thick with tears. “He’s gonna pull through and everything’s gonna be fine. He’s so strong, right? He’s gonna be okay. He _has_ to be.”

The tears were rolling down Michael’s flaming cheeks as he cupped Calum’s gaunt face gently, tilting it this way and that as he drank every detail in, like he was memorising it almost… like he was scared he might lose Calum too.

Their foreheads fell to rest together and Calum wanted to kiss him; wanted the comfort and the familiarity… but, more than that, he wanted to dry Michael’s tears and promise that everything was going to be okay again… but that just wasn’t _true_.

Not yet.

Calum couldn’t even remember the last time they’d spoken to each other before this. He couldn’t remember if they’d argued or kissed or fought or if Calum had fallen even deeper in love with him. It was all just so much water under the bridge and the wave was threatening to wash everything else away.

“Oh,” Michael said suddenly and Calum looked up at him, taking in the light haze of drizzle drifting through the amber light surrounding them. “It’s raining.” Michael caught a drop rolling down Calum’s cheek - or was it a tear? - and something in his emerald eyes took Calum’s breath away.

“I know somewhere we can go,” Michael said quietly and, without questioning it, Calum followed him. That was nothing new though; Calum had always trusted Michael more than anyone else.

The blue-haired boy walked through the darkness beside him but, as they wandered into the town through the mist of rain, Michael stepped away from him. The streetlights glowed off the rain-wet pavement and Michael shot Calum a longing look, like he desperately wanted to touch the younger boy but was afraid Calum didn’t want him to anymore... especially after all of the harsh words they had exchanged over the last year.

Calum reached out hesitantly to entwine their fingers and Michael looked over at him with wide, scared green eyes. His cherry-red lips parted in surprise and he swallowed audibly, his throat catching like he was trying not to cry. Calum rubbed his thumb comfortingly over the back of the older boy’s hand and Michael’s breath tore out of him in a little whimper.

“Is this okay? It doesn’t hurt?” Calum checked softly, his dark eyes flickering down to the countless sore abrasions marring the skin around Michael’s pale fingers. He didn't know what they were but he remembered Michael crying over opening his front door now and he knew there had to be _something_ there that he wasn't aware of. The blue-haired boy just shook his head wordlessly, his eyes brimming with tears as he let his head fall to rest on Calum’s narrow shoulder for a moment.

“It’s okay,” Michael whispered, his eyelashes spiky with tears as he inhaled shakily. His expression cleared after a few moments and he pointed suddenly, gesturing to a small coffee shop spilling golden light out into the damp night.

“That's where we're headed. It's one of my favourite places to come to at the moment,” Michael explained quietly and Calum looked up at him in surprise, a bittersweet taste welling in his mouth as he realised how much he had to learn about his oldest best friend now... how much had been lost between them. “I mean… it was a little bit awkward at first because… y’know, _Charlie_ works here but… he’s cool now. It’s okay. I quite like it here.”

“Charlie?” Calum asked, his dark eyes widening. “Charlie as in… Barker? The guy I punched in the face? _That_ Charlie?”

“He’s cool now,” Michael repeated but, despite how ludicrous the words seemed to Calum - strange enough that they actually distracted him from his anxiety for a few moments - the blue-haired boy seemed to mean them. “He sits with me sometimes. He came out to his parents a while ago and I think that’s why he was quite so shitty last year or whenever… Things weren’t so easy for him.”

“Still don’t forgive him for what he said about you,” Calum said stubbornly but he spoke without meaning to, so exhausted and emotionally drained that his filter was gone now, allowing his words to spill out of him. “You deserve better than that. One little apology isn’t going to cut it.”

Michael looked like he was trying hard not to smile and Calum found he couldn’t regret it as the older boy led him towards the coffee shop by the hand.

“The Daily Grind?” Calum read aloud, snorting weakly. “That’s a dumb name.” He was smiling faintly though, his dimples creasing his cheeks a little as a tiny bit of relief trickled through him like warm water.

“Seems like you’re in luck,” Michael said as he opened the door with a chime, fighting down against his fondness. “Doesn’t look like he’s working tonight.”

They ordered a mug of tea each and carried them to an empty table at the back, and for a while Michael felt better. Calum smiled faintly as he warmed his hands on the mug and the guarded expression usually on the younger boy’s hollow face fell away as he cracked stupid jokes, trying to keep Michael smiling in a desperate attempt to distract them both from their worries for Ashton and Luke.

The atmosphere in the coffee shop was friendly and Michael liked watching Calum relax a little; liked seeing the way his hair grew curlier than ever as it dried from the rain. It made him look soft and young, and it reminded Michael of that night in the kitchen at Graham’s when he’d cradled the younger boy in his arms and never wanted to let him go.

Michael felt like that now and he hated that it felt so comfortable; hated that his harsh, reckless words from that day at the park were echoing around his head now as Calum fell quiet to take a hesitant sip of his tea.

" _I’m not the person you need, Cal. You… you deserve someone who can **love** you._ "

The fingers of Calum’s free hand wrapped hesitantly around Michael’s wrist - almost like Calum knew what he was  _thinking_ - and the blue-haired boy’s heart panged with it. He wished this didn’t feel so safe and beautiful; so sad and confusing. He wished it didn’t feel so _right_.

Abruptly, Michael wondered if this was what Calum had meant that time in Michael’s bedroom when he’d tearfully told Michael that, despite their relationship being wrong, it didn’t _feel_ wrong when they were together.

Michael thought he understood that better than anything now.

While Calum was here within touching distance, everything else fell by the wayside. The younger boy was bright and beautiful, no matter how empty and afraid he looked, and Michael wished more than anything that circumstances were different… that they hadn’t been raised to feel like this was _wrong_ … that Michael and Calum weren’t so damaged that they could barely function anymore.

All Michael could do was fight against the tide as he struggled to keep Calum close to him. Nothing else mattered tonight… not when they’d been so close to losing Ashton… not when Calum felt like all Michael had left right now.

Calum’s fingers slipped suddenly to intertwine with Michael’s and it was like he could tell what the older boy was feeling almost… like _he_ could feel the turmoil too.

When Michael found himself gazing helplessly into the younger boy’s face and taking in the way Calum looked like he was collapsing in on himself, Michael figured maybe Calum did.

It was the most painful feeling in the world but, with Calum holding his hand _without_ it making his skin crawl as the stars turned in the violet sky outside, Michael thought it was almost worth it.

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please, please let me know what you thought <3  
> If anyone is even still reading this :')


	88. Half To Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum’s stomach was empty and knotted but for once he didn’t notice it. The cuts on his arms were hidden under the soft folds of his All Time Low sweatshirt and, somewhere between leaving the line and hurrying towards the front of the room, Michael’s hand had slipped into Calum’s, keeping them together._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! (Almost wrote 'hey everybody' but... I resisted...)  
> I'm so so so sorry it took me so long to update! My laptop broke and I had zero motivation and just... yeah... not feeling it so much.  
> I don't really like this update but I hope maybe you guys won't mind it.  
> Fingers crossed you enjoy <3

**_You made me feel like I'm out of my mind,_ **

**_Oh, but it's alright, it's alright, it's alright._ **

_\- Poison, Rita Ora_

 

Michael’s thoughts spun like a hurricane in his head. The days were blurring together; the burning of his hands and the agony of how close they’d come to losing Ashton leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He spent more time at the hospital instead of going to school, either sitting by the curly-haired boy’s bedside or comforting a wrecked Luke in the corridor outside with coffee and stupid jokes.

Michael didn’t know how to help and he felt more useless than he had done in a long time, despite Graham insisting that he was being a great friend by being there for them. Michael wasn’t so sure he agreed though. He might love Ashton and Luke half to death but they weren’t the only reason he was here.

It was because he wanted to see Calum again too.

They hadn’t seen each other much since that night at the coffee shop and Michael missed him; missed his dark curls and the crinkling of his eyes when a rare smile faintly touched his lips. It reminded Michael of how everything had been in the old days, back before everything had fallen to pieces.

Michael was sitting in one of the many waiting rooms now, head hanging wearily as he balled his hands into fists inside his sleeves, trying not to touch anything. His heart was beating unsteadily in his chest and Michael felt a little sick with himself.

He’d spent the morning with Luke, killing time at the hospital while Ashton’s grandmother Grace had come to visit him. Michael had done his best to cajole Luke into cheering up but it hadn’t really worked, and things had only become more confusing when they’d gone outside to get some fresh air and bumped into _Aleisha_ of all people.

Now Michael was sitting tearfully in the waiting room, utterly alone while Aleisha presumably comforted a tearful Luke outside - Michael wasn’t sure how they were on speaking terms now but he wasn’t about to question it - and the blue-haired boy had barely managed to get himself together when the door opened once more to reveal Calum.

“Oh,” the dark-haired boy murmured when Michael jerked his head up, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. “I was just dropping by to see Ash but…” Calum’s voice trailed away as he got a better look at the older boy. “Mikey? Why’re you upset?” Calum’s dark eyes grew slightly panicky as he hovered uncertainly in the doorway. “Has something happened to Ashton? Is Luke -”

“They’re okay,” Michael said softly, which was the truth… which was a lie… which didn’t even feel _possible_ anymore. Calum crossed the room hesitantly to sit beside his oldest best friend and Michael gave him a watery smile, his shoulders slumping like the weight was too much to carry anymore.

“What are you thinking?” Calum whispered and Michael’s breath escaped him in a broken sigh when Calum let their arms brush as he shifted a little closer. The younger boy was dressed in a thick jumper despite the uncomfortable heat of the room and Michael shivered despite himself, his sore hands flexing as he forced his fingers to fan out on his jeans.

“I don’t know,” Michael choked out. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“ _Fix_ it?” Calum breathed, his dark eyes brimming with tears despite the confusion on his face, like maybe just seeing Michael’s pain was enough to hurt him. “But… Ash is getting better… and Luke will be okay too, once Ash is better again…”

Michael hung his head, shame-faced. For just a moment then, he hadn’t been talking about Luke and Ashton. He’d been thinking about the pair of _them_ instead; of how they’d fractured and splintered, and the little gap between them now that felt like a ravine.

Deep down, Michael thought Calum might already know what he’d been saying.

(Deep down, he wondered if Calum felt the same way.)

“Ash is getting so restless,” Michael said quietly, just for something to say. “But he’s getting stronger every day now. That’s what the doctors are saying.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Calum asked fairly, his hand fluttering for a moment like he was considering putting his arm around the older boy. In the end though, Calum’s fingers just curled lightly around Michael’s wrist and the blue-haired boy let out a soft sigh.

“But… by comparison… Luke’s like a ghost, Cal,” Michael said weakly, rolling his eyes at how dramatic he felt, even as his heart seemed to break in his chest all over again. He really did believe what he’d said about Luke though; the blond boy only ever looked pale and frightened now, and his blue eyes were exhausted and wild in his ashen face.

Michael hated how empty Luke looked.

He hated how empty they all _felt_.

“When did everything get so shit, Cal?” Michael asked helplessly and Calum’s wry smile didn’t touch his eyes. He seemed to be thinking hard and Michael’s heart sank at what the younger boy said next.

“I think it’s always been shit, Mikey,” Calum said miserably. “Maybe we just never noticed until now.”

The silence in the room grew strained after that and Michael had never hated anything more. To have Calum far away and trying to avoid him had been agonising enough but this? Having him so close and feeling like he was on the other side of the world?

It tore Michael up more than he could ever have imagined and he thought he might have done anything to bring Calum back to him in that moment.

Anything at all.

“Take a walk with me?” Michael blurted out and Calum was kind enough not to comment on the desperation so obviously saturating the older boy’s voice. Calum watched him silently instead, his eyes tracing Michael’s face as he frowned weakly, and just when Michael was sure the younger boy was going to say no, Calum slipped his arm carefully through Michael’s and helped the older boy to his feet.

“Come on then,” Calum said quietly, clinging to Michael a little tighter like the action of simply standing had made him dizzy. “I wouldn’t mind walking into town if you’re up for it. I can always drop by here later.”

“Thank you.”

Michael felt old as he let Calum lead him out of the room but the air was fresh once they finally made it outside - using a different exit to the one Michael had left Luke and Aleisha talking by luckily - and he felt a little better as they fell into step together, Calum leaning on Michael just a little, like he was craving the comfort but hoping the older boy wouldn’t notice.

Michael’s denim jacket was rough against Calum’s fingertips where his hand was curled hesitantly around the older boy’s bicep. Michael’s cheeks were flushed in the wind, his cherry-red lips slightly parted as he sighed quietly. He was still so beautiful and, despite how fragile everything around them felt, Calum was glad they could be together now, even if it _was_ only for a few fleeting moments. He wished they could find a way to be close again.

For once, it felt like the universe was on their side.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, Michael’s phone began to ring in his pocket and he answered the call with an apologetic glance at Calum.

Michael had greeted the caller as Dan - he was one of the friends Michael had made through gaming, Calum was fairly certain - and the dark-haired boy had no idea what was going on. He was trying not to eavesdrop but Michael’s face suddenly crumpled and Calum’s curiosity got the better of him.

“- can’t just take the tickets from you, dude. They must’ve been _expensive_! Are you sure you don’t -” Michael faltered, glancing at Calum with something that suddenly looked a lot like hope before he focused on the call again, a quiet sigh leaving him. “Dan, are you _sure_? Because I might be able to scrape some cash together in a couple of weeks if I help Gray out around the house but -”

“ _Mike_!” Dan interrupted and he was speaking loudly enough now that Calum could hear him over the phone. “I want you to have them! Just take them, okay? The show’s tomorrow night and I don’t want to go to a concert without Becca... and since we’re done… it just wouldn’t be the same… so you’d be doing me a favour if you took them really… and fuck knows, it might cheer you up! You know how much I hate it when you’re unhappy.”

Michael’s breath caught audibly in his throat and Calum gave his arm a comforting squeeze which fortunately seemed to help. Michael swallowed, forcing a smile onto his face as his eyes grew wet with tears.

“Thank you,” Michael said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly before he seemed to realise what he’d done and let his hand fall limply to his side. “You’re a great friend, man. I’ll ask Gray if he can drop by later to pick them up… and I’m sorry about Becca. I know how much you loved her.”

“It’s okay, dude,” Dan said softly but Calum forced himself to stop listening now, not wanting to intrude. The guy on the phone sounded cut up inside and it wasn’t Calum’s business.

“We’ll play together again really soon,” Michael said suddenly, catching the dark-haired boy’s attention. Michael ended the call and shot Calum another apologetic look but this time the younger boy thought it looked forced because there was something almost excited in the blue-haired boy’s face now.

“Is everything okay?” Calum asked as his fingers slipped from Michael’s sleeve; he buried his hands in his pockets instead and the older boy’s expression became downcast.

“Yeah, I just…” Michael shook his head slowly, still looking deeply surprised. “That was my friend Dan. He said he’d bought All Time Low concert tickets for his girlfriend’s birthday but then they broke up yesterday and he doesn’t wanna go anymore. He says I can have them.”

“That’s great!” Calum said, face lighting up before he suddenly bit his lip anxiously. “I mean… y’know, not Dan and his girlfriend breaking up but… yeah… free concert tickets… free _All Time Low_ concert tickets.”

“That’s like the biggest silver lining ever,” Michael said as a crooked smile tugged shyly at his lips. His blue hair was tousled in the breeze as he hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. Michael grinned a little and Calum’s heart fluttered in his chest. “Tell me, Cal, do you have any plans tomorrow night?”

“You know what?” Calum replied teasingly and he couldn’t believe how _okay_ he felt in Michael’s company now. “I don’t believe I do, Mike.”

Calum walked home alone with a faint smile on his face and a cigarette held loosely between his fingers. He couldn’t believe Michael had still asked him to come with him first, even after all this time.

It meant more than anything in the world and he thought maybe Michael felt the same as the pair of them entered the concert venue the next night. It was already packed with people, and the sound of laughter and raised voices carried to them as they showed Dan’s tickets to the guard before heading inside.

Calum’s stomach was empty and knotted but for once he didn’t notice it. The cuts on his arms were hidden under the soft folds of his All Time Low sweatshirt and, somewhere between leaving the line and hurrying towards the front of the room, Michael’s hand had slipped into Calum’s, keeping them together.

“Thank you for bringing me here!” Calum called above the music playing and the sounds of the crowd. Michael seemed to be reading his lips before a smile suddenly broke out over his face, so beautiful and saturated in relief that Calum couldn’t resist pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you,” Calum repeated, his lips brushing Michael’s shoulder lightly through the plaid shirt the older boy was wearing over his skinny jeans.

“It’s the least I can do for you, Cal,” Michael promised.

Their fingers entwined again as the doors closed and the opening act entered the room, and the crowd went wild as the guitar riffs tore through the still air, taut with anticipation.

By the time All Time Low came out, Calum felt almost hoarse. He’d been singing and laughing, and it struck him like a lightning bolt that Michael had made him feel so fucking alive just by being here with him.

The music was pounding in Calum’s bones now as the opening notes to Lost In Stereo began to play. Calum realised in that moment - with Michael there beside him - that this was the only place he ever wanted to be.

It took him far too long to realise that his feelings had more to do with Michael’s hand resting casually on the small of his back than the concert unfolding around them but Calum tried to suppress that thought. He knew it would only lead to more pain.

Unfortunately, fighting the feelings was easier said than done.

Michael looked over at him when Walls began to play, a plastic cup of cheap beer in his hand and undeniable love in his eyes, and Calum’s heart rose painfully into his throat as he listened to the lyrics.

“ _I'm gonna break down these walls I built around myself. I wanna fall so in love with you and no one else could ever mean half as much to me as you do now. Together we'll move on; just don't turn around. Let the walls break down._ ”

Michael was singing the words and his eyes were drinking Calum’s face in and, for just a moment, Calum thought Michael was going to kiss him again. He saw the resolve forming in the older boy’s eyes; saw the way he leant forwards just a little and… and Calum forced himself to turn away… felt Michael’s lips brush his cheek lightly and rested his head on the older boy’s shoulder because it felt easier than pulling away.

Calum could feel himself falling even deeper than ever and he wished it wasn’t the case.

Loving Michael hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3  
> Please let me know what you thought!


	89. Bird Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Michael closed his emerald green eyes against the tears but he leant his cheek into Calum’s palm too and, when he twisted to press a chaste kiss to the younger boy's hand, Calum knew he’d been forgiven._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I'm really sorry about the wait. I'm just like... not in a good place anymore but I still want to get this story finished so I've been trying really hard I promise.  
> I know this is short and really angsty, and I hope it doesn't feel like nothing's happening because I'm afraid of that :(  
> I'm sorry if this isn't good.  
> I hope maybe you'll like it though <3

**_Thank you for being such a friend to me._ **

**_Oh, I pray a friend for life,_ **

**_And have I ever told you how much you mean to me?_ **

**_Oh, you're everything to me,_ **

**_And I am so lost for words,_ **

**_And I am so overwhelmed._ **

**_Please don't go just yet._ **

_\- Broken Wings, Flyleaf_

 

The days following the concert bled away quickly and Calum was left with an empty feeling in his chest that ached just enough that he could never forget it was there. He tried to fill the Michael-shaped hole inside with cigarettes and weed, and razor blades dragged across his skin, but none of it was ever enough. Calum couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised anymore.

This was just one more aching pain to drag along behind him until the weight of it became too much to bear. The dizziness never left him anymore and his head felt fuzzy with it, his heart jumping unevenly in his chest whenever he exerted too much effort… whenever he stood up or walked around or _breathed_.

His hair was so thin now, his hands perpetually shaking. His insides felt like they were made up of thorns wrapped around bird bones; prickly and fragile and _hollow_. Calum was probably going to fracture and break one of these days but it didn’t feel like such a terrible thing anymore. Dimly, he wondered when that idea had stopped feeling frightening.

His ceiling was dark overhead, the headlights of a passing car painting golden streaks over the white plaster. He hadn’t spoken to Mali in weeks, Aleisha and Ashley were busy revising for their exams, and Luke and Ashton were so wrapped up in taking care of each other after the older boy had left the hospital that, for the most part, Calum simply kept to himself.

It felt beyond fucked up that the only person he really spoke to properly anymore was Michael and yet… Calum couldn’t find it in himself to stay away. He supposed it made sense really. Under all of their suffocating fears and panic, they had a solid foundation, built during the years when they were closer to each other than anyone. Calum figured it made sense that that was where they landed when they couldn’t fall any further.

That foundation would probably _always_ be there and Calum hated himself for being glad of it… hated that he was viewing it as some fucked up kind of safety net… that is, if a safety net was made of rock perfectly capable of splintering him to pieces.

The clock on his bedside table indicated that it was already close to two in the morning and Calum’s nails were bitten ragged as they dug into the **_PERFECT_** cut into his thigh. A tiny humourless huff of laughter escaped him and Calum’s free hand curled around the bottle of sleeping pills lying on the bed beside him. He’d found them in the medicine cabinet that morning and something dark inside had made him snatch them up, hiding them in the bundle of dirty washing in his arms and stowing them in his bedroom before he carried yesterday’s clothes down to the laundry room.

The hopelessness inside Calum burnt him dully, felt like barbed wire wrapping painfully tightly around his lungs and _squeezing_... or cheese wire maybe, pressed tight against his throat and slicing. That would at least explain why Calum’s breath kept catching so agonisingly every time he tried to inhale. That would explain the bitter tears leaking down his gaunt face that he only became aware of as they dried sticky on his flushed cheeks now.

Calum was panting a little, his sudden panic flaring to life like wildfire in his veins as he stared at the bottle in the darkness, listening to the menacing rattle of the pills tumbling together with how badly his hands were shaking.

Calum wasn’t sure he was brave enough to do it but _fuck_ , it was all he could think about. He felt like he _needed_ to; needed to just finish things once and for all so he stopped fucking _hurting_ all the time but…

 **But**.

That was the problem.

He’d just accidentally let his thoughts wander and imagined his mum finding him the next morning. He'd imagined Mali’s voice breaking over the phone when she heard what had happened - that is, if she even answered when Joy called. He'd imagined Luke and Ashton learning what he’d done…. and Aleisha and Ashley… and  _Michael_.

God, Calum didn’t think he could do that to the people he loved.

He _wished_ he could though.

More than anything.

His phone chimed suddenly with an incoming call and Calum reached out blindly for it, wincing a little at the stinging as the cuts on his wrist continued to bleed sluggishly. The caller ID let him know that it was Michael calling and Calum answering it unthinkingly, bringing the phone shakily to his ear.

“Cal?” Michael spoke in a small voice, sounding tired and lost, and Calum hated the pain he could hear buried there. “Hope I didn’t wake you up…” When the dark-haired boy murmured something vaguely reassuring, Michael cleared his throat awkwardly. “Did… did you maybe want to go for a walk or something? I know it’s, like, _stupid_ late… and we have school tomorrow and… yeah, this is probably a dumb idea, isn’t it? Don’t even worry about it, Cal. I just… I’ll see you tomorrow and -”

“Mike,” Calum interjected quietly, shoving the bottle of pills back into the drawer of his bedside table and rising shakily. “Just give me five minutes. I could do with a walk too.”

“Okay,” Michael whispered as, dimly, Calum heard the sound of his front door shutting. “I’ll walk over. Meet you on the corner.”

Calum ended the call, giving the hidden pills one last long look before he padded off to the bathroom to press some toilet paper against his sluggishly bleeding wrist. He wriggled into a hoodie and sweats over his pyjamas, and he considered raking his fingers through his dark curls before he realised it didn’t matter. He’d looked like shit for fucking _months_ now and there didn’t seem much point pretending anymore.

Michael would see through him in a split second anyway.

That was something he'd _always_ been able to do.

Calum had to hold onto the garden wall to stay upright when he finally made it outside, groaning softly at how badly his head was spinning. He felt almost scarily weak now and he couldn’t understand it; he was going for runs almost everyday after school and he was trying so _hard_ to lose all of the weight he’d put on. It didn’t make any sense that he was in such bad shape now.

He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“Hey, Cal?” Michael’s voice was gentle as it cut through the darkness but Calum still flinched, jerking upright from where he’d unconsciously sank down onto the low stone wall. His head had been cradled in his hands but he forced himself to look up at Michael now, a wan smile faintly touching his lips as the blue-haired boy dropped down beside him, his arm easing warmly around his best friend’s shaking shoulders. “Are you okay?” Michael whispered, lips just barely brushing the dark-haired boy’s curls. Calum was torn between wanting to shy away and turn his head to capture the older boy’s lips properly, and the conflicting emotions tore a soft gasp from him that was impossible to hide.

“You look exhausted,” Michael breathed as the pad of his thumb lightly stroked one of the dark bags under the younger boy’s eyes. “You only did this to keep me company, didn’t you?” The older boy shook his head slowly, his eyes glassy with what _might_ have been tears as he held the smaller boy a little closer. Calum was shivering at the chill and Michael’s expression quickly became concerned. “I don’t deserve a friend like you.”

Calum pressed his lips together tightly but not before a soft, pained sound tore out of him at the confession. He wanted to cry; wanted to turn his head and cup Michael’s cheeks gently in his palms, and kiss him until they both forgot their own names. He just wanted to feel _better_ for a few moments and he thought he might have given anything to have that, even for the most fleeting of seconds.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Calum muttered when his voice was more likely to be steady, catching Michael’s gaze and holding it as he basked in the warmth of the older boy's arm wrapped comfortingly around him. Michael was watching him like he wanted to _kiss_ Calum and it reminded him of that night in the park beside the apple tree… and then, with a sudden flash of pain, Calum remembered that awful day in the bathroom at school instead.

His face crumpled as he threatened to break down in tears and fighting against them _hurt_ now. He hated that memory; hated remembering the stunned look on Michael’s cheek as his face flamed with Calum’s handprint… the choked sob that escaped the older boy and the tears rolling down his face as he staggered backwards, clutching at his face as the self-loathing flooded through Calum like acid.

His palm was trembling when he reached to gently cup the older boy’s cheek and, despite Michael doing his best not to flinch, Calum still saw it and it ripped him to pieces inside.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as his tears boiled over, sliding smoothly down his cheeks. “So, _so_ sorry, Mikey. I can never say sorry enough.”

Michael closed his emerald green eyes against the tears but he leant his cheek into Calum’s palm too and, when he twisted to press a chaste kiss to the younger boy's hand, Calum knew he’d been forgiven.

He just wished he could still feel enough to _appreciate_ it but… he only felt numb nowadays; like he was on the brink of completely losing himself almost… like a strong wind might blow him away… like he was made of nothing more substantial than smoke.

Remembering the sleeping pills in his room and the feeling of having nothing left to lose anymore, Calum didn’t think it would take much at all to get lost now.

He just couldn’t quite find it in himself to care anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading.  
> Please let me know what you thought <3


	90. Ripped Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum felt like a burning candle rapidly running out of wick. There wasn’t much left of him to hold onto anymore but Michael was still trying, with trembling bloodied hands and pale fingers hooked gently around Calum’s bones. Michael wasn’t ready to let go just yet._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I'm like the most sorry I've ever been that this has taken me so long to update and I also wanted to apologise because I hate this update a LOT but nothing else was coming out. I've literally been reading/editing Tempest for like two weeks trying to get back into it but it just wasn't working. I really am sorry about the wait though. I'm not in the best place right now but it wasn't fair to take that out on you guys, if anyone is actually still reading this!  
> If you're still here, I really can't thank you enough for putting up with my shit.  
> Fingers crossed you won't hate this.

**_Even as I wander,_ **

**_I'm keeping you in sight._ **

**_You're a candle in the window,_ **

**_On a cold, dark winter's night,_ **

**_And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might._ **

_\- Can’t Fight This Feeling, Reo Speedwagon_

 

Despite the bone-deep ache festering inside, Calum could feel Michael brightening the darkness like sunlight dancing across skin. The glow of the blue-haired boy burnt away the perpetual anxiety coiling in Calum's chest and the younger boy breathed easier because of it.

Even now, he wondered why that surprised him because Michael had _always_ been good at making Calum feel whole. It was something that no one else had ever been able to do.

Little though he wanted to, Calum could feel himself warming once more to the idea of Michael. He knew it would end badly - knew it would only spell out more pain in the long run - but it felt inevitable. The stinging betrayal of Michael’s words that day in the park and his lips pressed to somebody else’s meant nothing when he was gazing at Calum like that, with a soft curve of his lips and the hint of light dancing in his eyes once more.

Calum knew it wouldn’t last - nothing could - but he was determined to enjoy the fragile web connecting them. It didn’t feel like a truce anymore; it was more like a play instead, with two actors desperately deluding themselves that what they had between them now was _real_... that maybe they wouldn’t hurt anymore.

Michael couldn’t stop himself from thinking this too. He knew they were probably destined to fall apart - to crumble at the other’s touch - but running away was too painful now. It burnt Michael like gasoline igniting on his skin and he craved Calum so desperately that of _course_ he couldn’t leave now, not even to save himself. That seemed like the most destructive thing in the world to Michael. Losing Calum wasn’t an option.

He just wished it was easier to trick his brain into agreeing with his heart because, while the aching muscle in his chest was loudly proclaiming its love for Calum, Michael’s brain had other ideas. It didn’t seem to care that spending time with Calum these days felt like stitching his heart back together because the reality of being close to the dark-haired boy _hurt_.

It just reminded Michael of every tiny thing Calum wouldn’t let him help with anymore. It was a painful reminder of the lack of trust between them… the hard, cold evidence of their splintered friendship.

Being close was so painful now but slowly suffocating together instead of being ripped apart by their teeth seemed like a better alternative.

Calum didn’t think about the bottle of sleeping pills stashed in his room or the razor blade tucked away when he was with Michael. He didn’t feel so much like purging or cutting or even _smoking_ , and he forgot how much the loss of Mali ached… forgot his fear for his mum and his hatred for his father…

Ashton and Luke had all but vanished too, so wrapped up in themselves that neither Michael nor Calum barely saw them anymore, and all of them knew how depressed Ashton was now following the death of his mother and his near-death experience. It set them all on edge but they weren’t allowed to _help_ and Calum tried to complain to Michael about it once, tried to put into words how _terrible_ it felt to be shut out when someone you loved was suffering… and when Michael simply gazed up at him with awful hollow _knowing_ eyes, Calum’s words died in his throat.

He didn’t mention it again after that.

The pair of them circled each other like broken puppets, still trying to repeat the same old lines and perform in their usual scenes, and failing dismally every time. Nothing felt the same as it had been back when they were younger but they were _trying_. It didn’t feel like it was ever going to be enough.

Their exams were just around the corner now but Calum barely thought about them anymore. He knew Aleisha and Ashley disapproved of him essentially flunking his subjects to spend more time with Michael but Calum couldn’t let himself think about that anymore.

They didn’t understand and they knew too much about him, and thinking about that hurt. Calum couldn’t let himself dwell on that… not if he wanted to stay numb… not if he didn’t want to flicker out like flicking a light switch.

Probably Michael would be the one to do that. Perhaps one day soon he would grow tired of Calum again, would grow too saddened by pain to want to fight anymore, and he would leave again… or maybe he wouldn’t.

The **what ifs** were worst second only to how lonely Calum felt at Michael’s side.

It didn’t feel fair that they could be so close physically but still feel like they were on opposite sides of the world. Calum thought the most unfair bit might be how _alive_ he felt when he was pressed up against Michael because… that only made it worse somehow. It only highlighted just how fucking _dead_ Calum felt at every other moment.

It reminded him of that day on the bridge that evening: the terrifying swooping sensation in his stomach as Calum’s dizziness almost dragged him over the edge… that horrible lurching-freeing-flying- _falling_ feeling; that realisation of impending death and the emptiness that threatened to engulf him; the slowly-building horror that masked _relief_ when Calum realised he was barely afraid anymore.

Maybe Calum was still thinking about death a lot after all. Maybe he just wasn’t relying on pills or little bits of metal to do it anymore.

The dark-haired boy felt more lost than ever nowadays and he knew Michael felt the same; could see it in the hollowness of his emerald eyes when he forced back tears and tried to forget. They never told each other anything important anymore and it felt like the most agonising thing in the world. Calum could choke on the secrets between them now.

Michael kept all of his emotions locked away deep inside and the younger boy could see it sometimes: the sudden agony rearing its head in Michael’s eyes before he fought it away with barely-suppressed panic; the fear rippling across his pale face when Calum almost collapsed whenever he exerted too much energy… whenever he walked or moved or stood. Calum was finding it easier to ignore. He could lose himself in the spiralling thoughts inside his head - could lose himself in the tangled snarl of: ‘ _you need to be thin, you need to be happy, you need to be **perfect** , you need to lose weight so you're not ashamed, because then your parents will be proud of you, and Mali will come home, and Michael will want you, and everything will be fixed; you need to be **perfect** , always perfect... you need to keep going_'.

Calum could lose himself in those thoughts until they were all he thought about anymore; with his thumb rubbing unconsciously over the shiny scar on his knuckle… with his throat burning with pain where his nails had clawed at it.

Calum felt like a burning candle rapidly running out of wick. There wasn’t much left of him to hold onto anymore but Michael was still trying, with trembling bloodied hands and pale fingers hooked gently around Calum’s bones. Michael wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

It didn’t seem to matter that Calum could feel himself closing off again. At night he dreamt of saying goodbye to Michael and tumbling backwards off the bridge, the last thing he saw the blue-haired boy’s beautiful face blurring with his tears, and Calum couldn’t let that become a reality. Not when Michael was close to him again, in body if not in spirit.

Calum thought about _souls_ sometimes and marvelled at just how much he’d lost it. He didn’t care anymore though because, when he looked at Michael, he really believed it. He could see how bright and untarnished the older boy was beneath his pain, and Calum knew that Michael would heal in time. They would be like a shipwreck, terrifying and heart-stopping at first but the pain would diminish over time like waves gently washing away the wreckage.

Calum knew Michael would forgive himself and move on with his life. He was _sure_ of it. Calum just had to make sure that he didn’t get too close… that Michael never had a chance to fall for him again. It felt like an impossibility now but Calum was too scared to chance it.

He felt like he was back at the party again that night when everything had first crumbled to pieces. He remembered seeing the love burning in Michael’s eyes but it hadn’t been put into words back then and that had given Calum plausible deniability.

He felt the same way now.

While Michael was content to simply spend time in his company and talk to Calum when there was no one else, that was enough for the dark-haired boy… but if Michael fell in _love_ , the kindest solution would be to take himself out of the situation.

Calum knew Michael could do a million times better than him but he was too weak to drag himself away, and that was the crux of the matter really.

Calum loved Michael too much to deprive himself of him any longer.

It was the most selfish, sickening act Calum could imagine but he couldn’t stand the thought of losing Michael again because he knew it would tear him apart completely. He couldn’t survive the pain of losing someone he needed that much because Michael was his fucking _oxygen_ now and losing him would destroy Calum; the younger boy was sure of that and he thought he might be able to see it echoed back at him sometimes in the older boy’s eyes.

They couldn’t lose each other.

Not again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is still reading, thank you so much for that.  
> Please let me know what you thought <3


	91. Somewhere Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _Calum didn’t feel real anymore and even the metallic taste of the blood on his tongue wasn’t enough to burn through the haze of numbness settling over him. It only got worse when Michael carefully drew out because Calum’s heart jarred painfully in his chest as he realised, with a jolt of dread, that it felt like Michael had taken something important with him._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in two days? Wonders will never cease...  
> This update is pretty short but I quite like it I think. Also like… the tag ‘under-negotiated kink’ is relevant in this chapter!! Make sure you talk things through properly, kids. (I have never regretted using the word ‘kids’ more. Ever.)  
> Fingers crossed you guys don’t hate this!

**_Shut my eyes to the song that plays._ **

**_Sometimes this has a hot, sweet taste._ **

_\- Buzzcut Season, Lorde_

 

The sheets on Michael’s bed smelt faintly of lavender when Calum turned his head away to hide the desperation in his dark eyes. There was a song playing softly from the older boy’s phone, the volume turned too low for it to be anything more than background noise, and their panting breaths were the only other sounds in the room. It was hot beneath the duvet and Michael’s blue hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat but he didn’t suggest them moving out from under the covers; he must have realised Calum would have hated that and the younger boy wanted to be relieved but he was too distracted by Michael fucking him into the mattress.

The muscles in the older boy’s pale back rippled beneath Calum’s frantically searching hands and the dark-haired boy whined when the movement of Michael’s hips slowed as he tried to catch his breath. Michael thrust in shallowly as he lowered his head and Calum squirmed, feeling vulnerable and exposed with the older boy simply gazing down at him like that.

“You good, Cal?” Michael checked as he smoothed his hands over the younger boy’s shoulders in what was probably supposed to be a reassuring gesture. Calum couldn’t tell the older boy the truth. He couldn’t confess that fucking this way when he was so deeply in love made his _heart_ feel raw. He couldn’t admit that his chest was aching so badly he felt like he was about to pass out or that, even lying down, the awful dizziness threatened to overwhelm him as his empty stomach twisted itself into knots. All Calum could do was grit his teeth and say: “Choke me, Mikey” in a weak, desperate little voice.

Michael moaned when he processed the words, his emerald eyes widening in surprise as his hips rocked back to fill the dark-haired boy once more. Calum groaned, clenching down reflexively when Michael blurted out a rough: “ _Fuck_ , Cal, are you sure?”

Calum didn’t know how to put into words the fact that he’d been getting himself off to thoughts of this alone for almost the past year but he thought Michael might be able to see it in his eyes when the older boy’s pale hands drifted unconsciously to the younger boy’s throat. They wrapped around the tanned skin almost _tenderly_ and Calum’s moan tore out of him like he'd been punched, a high whimpering sound that would have embarrassed him if Michael’s cock hadn’t hit his prostate in the same second.

It didn’t matter that Calum instantly felt like he was about three seconds away from falling apart. Being this close to Michael and actually telling him what he _wanted_ for once should have felt like enough but… but it didn’t.

It didn’t seem to matter that this was everything Calum had wanted for so long because even this wasn’t enough to ground him now. Maybe _nothing_ was and that felt scariest of all… the fact that even _Michael_ couldn’t make him feel alive or drag him back from the edge anymore.

There were dark spots dancing before Calum’s eyes and he couldn’t work out if it was thanks to Michael’s hands around his throat or the anxiety kindling in his chest but the result was the same: it made everything feel dreamlike around him… like maybe none of this was really happening at all.

Calum’s back arched almost painfully as he came apart and he couldn’t keep his broken whines in when Michael desperately chased his own release, his hands slipping down to grip Calum’s disgustingly _fat_ hips under the duvet. The older boy fell apart with a quiet groan that he buried in the younger boy’s throat and Calum bit his lip hard enough that he could taste blood when he felt Michael trembling weakly against him.

Calum didn’t feel real anymore and even the metallic taste of the blood on his tongue wasn’t enough to burn through the haze of numbness settling over him. It only got worse when Michael carefully drew out because Calum’s heart jarred painfully in his chest as he realised, with a jolt of dread, that it felt like Michael had taken something important with him.

Calum felt dazed as he lay there sprawled on the mattress, his arms falling down onto the sheets, the skin of his wrists tight and sore beneath the sweatshirt he was still bundled up in. His throat felt bruised as he struggled back into his sweatpants beneath the duvet but even that movement exhausted him now and he slumped back down onto the sheets with a soft sigh, his head spinning.

When Calum finally forced his dull chocolate brown eyes open, he found Michael already watching him.

The older boy was naked save for his t-shirt and socks, his pale legs crossed beneath him as he watched the dark-haired boy with damp eyes. It struck Calum just how upset and  _small_ Michael looked as he balled his hands into fists, and Calum hated the lump that rose in his throat at the sight of Michael’s tears.

After everything the pair of them had been through, Calum was still so, _so_ easy for Michael. He would have been ashamed if he had enough presence of mind left but all the dark-haired boy could focus on was how tiny and sad the older boy looked as he sat there, sagging like a broken puppet.

Calum wanted to cry as he looked at how far Michael had fallen but he couldn’t find his tears now; it felt like they’d been locked stubbornly away somewhere deep inside… almost gone. Calum wondered what would happen when he grew too empty to cry anymore. He wondered if the pain inside would tear him apart.

His shaking fingertips found the **PERFECT** on his thigh. Calum pressed down until the skin bruised.

“ _Cal_ ,” Michael croaked and his hand was shaking when he gently cradled Calum’s cheek, the flesh filling his palm sickeningly and making the younger boy feel fatter than ever as he closed his eyes against Michael’s tears. It felt almost like the older boy was forcing himself to touch him but Calum couldn’t understand why. Surely holding his cheek wasn’t any worse than fucking him but Michael’s sore hands were trembling violently now and Calum didn’t have a clue.

Another tear rolled freely down Michael’s flushed cheek and the older boy’s breath escaped him in a ragged gasp like he was trying hard not to lose control.

“It feels like you’re not even here anymore,” Michael cried softly and Calum’s heart lurched painfully in his chest but he didn’t question it. On the contrary, he thought he could see just what the blue-haired boy meant.

Calum felt like he was watching Michael through glass now; like no matter how hard he forced against it, he could never quite make it through on his own.

Calum wished he remembered how to cry properly.

God, he wished for so _many_ things… but most of all Michael.

Always Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank all of you for the lovely comments you've been leaving. They're so encouraging and supportive, and it's really cheered me up even when I'm having a bad day so thank you so much for that <3  
> I really hope you enjoyed this update and I'd love to hear what you thought :)  
> We're seeing some different faces in the next few updates that haven't been around in a while so I'm excited for that! I hope you guys will be too :)
> 
> ALSO A THING HAPPENS AT THE END OF THE NEXT CHAPTER AND I'M SO EXCITED OH MY GOD OKAY I'M CALM I PROMISE


	92. A Chance In Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _“I’ve been a terrible mother, haven’t I?” she asked softly and Calum’s boiling tears _burnt_ him as they coursed down his cheeks, more searing than his lighter held against his skin as Joy struggled not to fall apart in front of him._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three updates in three days! I don't know how long I can keep this up for but I promise I'm going to keep trying!  
> I also had to upload this like four times because my piece of shit computer wouldn't work and I lost/had to rewrite the ending THREE DAMN TIMES but I hope it was worth it :')  
> Enjoy!

**_No amount of covers could keep me warm,_ **

**_And I've been freezing since the day you walked away._ **

_\- Honest, Jojo_

 

Calum hadn’t seen Aleisha since that night at the dance show and it felt strange to be with her again now. He knew he’d been unfair to her then, snapping and making spiteful little comments because he felt like he was being torn apart but it was still no excuse.

She was supposed to be one of his best friends in the whole world.

Aleisha deserved better.

“Why’re you looking at me like I just kicked a puppy?” the blonde girl asked pointedly as she rose from the blanket she’d spread out on the pebbles. The pair of them had agreed to meet up on the beach but Calum had frozen when he saw her, biting his bottom lip nervously as she closed the distance between them.

“Because I feel terrible,” the dark-haired boy replied in a soft voice. “I’ve been awful to you lately and it’s shitty of me. I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. I love you to _pieces_ honestly.” Calum hung his head, closing his tired eyes against the dim starlight. A little of the tension bled out of him when Aleisha’s arms wrapped easily around his narrow frame.

“I love you too, Cal,” the younger girl promised. “That’s kind of why I put up with your shit, right?”

She looked exhausted when she took a step back and Calum hated how strained her expression was. Her blonde hair was tangled from the breeze and the circles under her eyes looked like bruises but she was still beautiful. Privately, Calum thought she probably always would be.

“I don’t deserve –”

“Nope,” Aleisha interrupted, putting a finger against his lips swiftly. Calum briefly considered biting it, just because, and the younger girl’s face lit up with a weak smile as she let her hand fall to tangle their fingers together instead. “No hating on yourself, okay? That’s not allowed. Now come and sit down. I brought a blanket and everything. We can pretend we’re the angsty teenage protagonists in some shitty film, okay?”

“That idea sounds more fun than it probably is,” Calum pointed out but he was smiling weakly as he followed her to the quilt she’d stretched out over the stones. A quiet sigh escaped him when he slumped down onto it but Aleisha was warm beside him, bundled up in a jumper and leggings under her coat.

“I’m sorry I haven’t seen you in so long,” Calum mumbled, his head falling to rest in the gentle slope of her shoulder as her arm wrapped warmly around him. Even in all of the layers the older boy was dressed in, he still felt freezing. The tremors wracked his bones and he felt like he was going to crumble in the cool breeze.

“You can’t just blame yourself for that,” Aleisha said fairly. “I’ve pretty much locked myself away to study anyway. Ashley’s the same.” She shrugged half-heartedly, jolting Calum’s head and making him huff out a breathless laugh. The sound died away quickly when he saw Aleisha scrutinising him from the corner of her eye. “That’s more than I can say about you though I think.”

Calum swallowed down the barbed retort that had been welling up – the waspish realization that she was probably only quite so focused because she was trying to move on from Luke – because that sort of comment felt unforgiveable and Calum couldn’t stand that it had even crossed his mind. Was that the kind of person he was now? Did he take satisfaction from tearing down the people he loved?

“Studying just… doesn’t feel that important anymore,” Calum said, a moment too late. “I can’t really find it in myself to care about exams when my life is falling apart.”

Aleisha looked equal parts unhappy and unimpressed, and Calum hated the disappointment he could see in her sharp eyes. For just a moment, it reminded him of his mother.

“You used to work so hard, Cal,” Aleisha said softly, clearly remembering Calum’s tales of school back when they’d first met. “What even _happened_ to make you stop caring?”

Briefly, Calum remembered that evening on the bridge and the way Michael’s lips felt against his own; he remembered the **PERFECT** and the realisation that he was burning apart while simultaneously falling to pieces; he remembered the screech of Mali's car as she drove away and the bruises David left scattered across his wife's face; he remembered Ashton falling apart in his arms that night on the sofa and the haunted look on Michael’s face when he called himself a coward; he remembered Ashley breaking down and Charlie Barker’s nose breaking under his fist; he remembered the first time he'd gone all the way with Michael and how fucking _wrecked_ he'd felt afterwards as the song lyrics poured out of him like blood.

Calum remembered all of it.

“Too much,” he answered after a long moment, flinching a little at the anxiety unfurling in his chest. He hated thinking about how badly everything had crumbled. Aleisha was watching him through damp eyes when he finally dragged his gaze back to her face and Calum hated that he couldn’t cry now.

“I guess I just gave up, Leish,” he said and it didn’t feel like a cry for help anymore; it felt like a statement of fact. A note of pain entered his voice without his permission and Calum hated how weak he sounded when he spoke again: “It wasn’t worth fighting anymore.”

“Cal, _no_ ,” Aleisha choked out, reaching for him. Her hand was shaking when it settled on his arm and Calum forced himself not to pull away.

Neither of them were talking about exams anymore.

Calum let the conversation die between them but she stayed lying close beside him despite the tension, her long blonde hair lightly tickling his face as the wind tousled it playfully. Her hand rested on his shoulder and he kept his face tucked away into the warmth of her neck, grateful that she was still allowing him this comfort now. She was one of the best people he knew and, no matter how hard Calum tried to push her away in an effort to protect her, she never left.

He loved her the way he loved Mali.

"I’m sorry I was avoiding you,” Calum whispered, echoing his earlier apology as the night grew darker around them. Aleisha didn’t comment; she simply pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead and held him closer, and Calum realised that she hadn’t called him out on it because she knew how much he cared about her; could hear it in the long rambling voicemails he left her at ridiculous times of night when she was sleeping and he was out walking alone.

“You didn’t mean to,” she said quietly and her lips were soft when she pressed a gentle kiss to his curls. “It’s okay, Cal.”

Her gentle voice made a lump rise in his throat despite himself and Calum held her tighter, tucking his head beneath his chin as he tried to forget how badly his bones ached just from lying here. Their hands were cold as they tangled their fingers together again, entwining them tightly like they were afraid the tide was going to roll in and tear them apart.

“I spoke to Michael a little while back,” Aleisha said out of nowhere, her words as fragile as spun glass. She spoke slowly, like she was testing the words in her mouth before letting them out. “Back when Ashton was at the hospital. My dad’s ulcer got bad again so he got taken in and I was there, and I saw blondie and Michael.”

Calum stiffened without meaning to, his arms tightening around her reflexively as his stomach churned with nausea. His heart was pounding too hard in his chest but he forced himself to draw in a shaky breath.

“Is your dad okay now?” he choked out and something in Aleisha’s face softened as she tangled their legs together carefully. Her face looked silver in the moonlight and Calum didn’t feel worthy as he lay beside her, his face masked in shadow as his ribcage threatened to cave in on itself.

“He’s fine now,” she reassured him calmly. “But honestly, actually having a chance to talk to Michael… well, it surprised me. I had this impression of him that, like, he just didn’t give a shit? Or that he only cared about himself?” Calum opened his mouth to weakly dispute this but Aleisha beat him to it. “I realised that can’t be right though. Don’t you remember that day back at blondie's house, when we both realised we knew the same people? Michael tried to defend Ashton then, didn’t he? So _obviously_ he cares.”

“He broke his hand,” Calum murmured, remembering.

“But that’s what confused me,” Aleisha pointed out. “It’s obvious he _does_ care deeply about his friends – even that night at the party when I spoke to him on the phone, he showed that – so I don’t understand why…” Her voice trailed away for a moment and she bit her lip at the pain she could see on Calum’s face. “This is hurting you. It's hurting _both_ of you," Aleisha said helplessly. "I can't understand why he isn't trying to fix this. If he cares as much as I think he does… why doesn’t he try?"

“I don’t know,” Calum whispered, remembering that day in the bathroom when the dark-haired boy had finally confessed his feelings, only to have them thrown back in his face. “Maybe he doesn't know how.”

They fell quiet again but it was more comfortable now, the only sounds the gentle crash of the waves breaking on the beach as the wind whistled through the branches of the trees nearby. Aleisha’s hair smelt like smoke and apples when the older boy buried his face in her shoulder. Calum never wanted to leave.

In that moment he wanted nothing more than to stay here with her. He wished they could be together; wished they actually had a chance in hell of making it work... but it could never be because Calum loved someone else and Aleisha needed to find herself first, and they were never going to happen. Life wasn’t fair; that had been proved when they met at the wrong time.

They loved each other though. Calum thought they probably always _would_. He hoped it never changed.

The wind was picking up now and the sea-spray was cold as the droplets were flung at them on the breeze. The shadowy pier creaked ominously and Aleisha shivered as goosebumps broke out on Calum’s tanned skin.

“I don’t think I like the quiet anymore,” the blonde girl whispered. Calum held her a little closer, carding his trembling fingers gently through her long hair. “You mind if I put a song on?”

“Not at all,” Calum reassured her, dropping his hand to rub her back comfortingly. “If it’ll make you feel better, go for it.”

Aleisha gave him a crooked smile as she eased her phone out of her pocket, for once ignoring the cigarettes buried there too. Neither of them seemed to feel the need to smoke tonight but Calum almost wished he was now; the bite of the wind was cold and he craved the familiar burning rush of nicotine. He thought Aleisha might feel the same when he saw her fingers trembling faintly but her expression was focused as she searched through her playlist for a song to break the silence.

“Here we go,” she said softly when she finally stopped scrolling. “I like this one a lot at the moment. It’s called ‘The Way I Loved You’.”

“That’s Selena Gomez, isn’t it?” Calum asked teasingly but Aleisha just rolled her tired eyes, smiling all the same.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to judge me if you knew she sang it too,” she pointed out but there was something soft in her eyes as she snuggled back down again, rendering him incapable of replying with something sarcastic because she looked quite sweet lying there. Calum simply smiled fondly when she pressed play, closing her eyes as the music swelled up in the darkness.

" _Everything's cool, yeah. It's all gonna be okay, yeah, and I know maybe I'll even laugh about it someday but not today, no, 'cause I don't feel so good. I'm tangled up inside. My heart is on my sleeve. Tomorrow is a mystery to me_."

Calum’s thoughts wandered as they were so wont to do these days and he couldn’t help but remember happier times as he lay there: long summer days spent in the park with Michael and Ashton, back when they were just kids; hastily suppressed laughter at school and whatever ridiculous shenanigans they’d been able to come up with on trips; those early band sessions with Luke back when they’d still believed they could _become_ something; evenings spent downing fizzy drinks and telling embarrassing stories with Mali; having his nails painted by Aleisha and getting stoned with Ashley because it was the only way he could ever feel relaxed anymore…

Huh. Maybe Calum didn't feel happier remembering this after all. Maybe it just _hurt_ instead, like salt rubbed in his wounds.

" _And it might be wonderful. It might be magical. It might be everything I've waited for; a miracle._ ”

Calum let his head tip to the side so that he could take in Aleisha’s profile; her little button nose and the softness of her lipstick-stained lips. He didn’t want to kiss her at all anymore and he wanted to feel guilty for that but he figured maybe it wasn’t a bad thing in the end. She was one of his best friends in the world and at least this felt easier now. At least he hadn't lost her.

He just wished that it was Michael lying here beside him instead; wished he could time his breathing to the gentle rise and fall of the older boy’s chest as Calum rested his head there, finally safe wrapped in the blue-haired boy’s arms. Calum wished he was close enough to count Michael’s eyelashes; close enough to kiss his sore knuckles and stroke his messy hair; close enough to brush away the tears that sometimes collected in Michael’s beautiful, emerald green eyes.

Calum wished for all of it.

" _Oh, but even if I fall in love again with someone new, it could never be the way I loved you._ "

Slowly, Calum became aware that he could no longer breathe past the lump rising in his throat. His tears still refused to fall but they stung his eyes and made his hands shake as he pushed himself clumsily into a sitting position, hissing in pain when his bones angrily protested the movement. His shoulders hunched up defensively when Aleisha reached for him and Calum hated how jagged he felt right now; hated the way he felt like he was about to snap.

“You still feel like you’re going to break,” she whispered and Calum shied away from her as subtly as he could, feeling a thrill of unpleasant satisfaction when her arm slipped from around his shoulders.

“Don’t you get it?” he asked and his voice sounded empty now. “I don’t care anymore.”

Calum got to his feet swiftly, hating the rush of dizziness but losing himself in it all the same as Aleisha simply gazed up at him wordlessly, her blue eyes damp with tears when she finally struggled slowly up after him. She looked like she was about to cry but she still reached out to wrap her fingers around his wrist, the touch gentle when she seemingly remembered the fact that he cut.

“Don’t leave,” she pleaded, her blonde hair a cloud around her shoulders as her eyes welled with tears. “Going back there just makes you feel bad, Cal. I can _see_ it. Just… don’t go. Not yet.”

“I have to, Leish,” Calum said helplessly and he tried to smile but his eyes remained wet. Her shoulders slumped and Calum brushed his knuckles lightly against her arm. “Don’t cry,” he chided gently when he saw the tears rolling down her flushed cheeks. “I’m not worth it.”

Aleisha jerked her head up and her sharp eyes were fiery now.

“Don’t you _dare_ say that,” she gasped, wiping her tears away harshly with the back of her hand. “You’re worth the whole _world_ , Calum. I’m going to keep telling you until you fucking see it!”

“You’ll be stuck with me for a long time then,” he muttered as he crouched, swaying unsteadily, to help her fold the blanket back up. Aleisha’s face softened fractionally when he looked up at her again and she gave him the smallest watery smile he’d ever seen.

“That’s what I’m counting on,” she said softly.

Calum pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek and gave her hand a grateful squeeze but then he turned away from her wordlessly, leaving here standing there bathed in silvery light, and the darkness swallowed him whole.

He felt shaky and anxious on the long walk home, his fingers aching with the need to smoke or drink or… or _fuck_. He needed something to break the monotony; needed to feel **real** again. Calum only ever felt like a ghost now.

The living room lights were on when Calum finally made it home but his dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway and the dark-haired boy relaxed visibly when he realised his mum must be alone. He hadn’t had a chance to see her properly in almost a week now because his father was always around which meant that the dark-haired boy tried to avoid being at home. Calum was upset that he’d almost missed the opportunity tonight.

His mum needed someone who was going to be kind to her and Calum hoped that person could be him.

He unlocked the door quickly, hurrying to call out a quiet reassurance when he heard her gasp audibly from the kitchen. Clearly she had panicked that her husband had come home early and Calum hated that she felt so unsafe in her own home.

“It’s just me,” he promised as he stowed his shoes neatly on the rack. His coat stayed on because he was still freezing but the shaking of his hands faded a little when he padded into the kitchen to lean against the radiator. Joy had her back to him as she washed up in the sink and Calum watched her carefully, taking in the exhausted slope of her shoulders and the way her unwashed hair was scraped back into a short, stubby ponytail as she tugged her rubber gloves off wearily. She didn’t look like she usually did and he found it surprisingly refreshing, at least until she turned around and he saw the mess David had made of her face.

Her bottom lip was badly split and the bruise on her cheekbone was almost black. One eye was half-swollen shut and Calum thought he might have fallen if he hadn’t been clinging to the burning hot radiator so tightly in an effort to stay upright. Joy swayed, looking like she hadn’t slept properly in weeks as she watched him with tears running down her bruised face. Her eyes were red and sore from crying.

Calum hated himself so much for not realising how bad things had got. He hated that he’d been locking himself away in his room so much over the past few days since his conversation with the football coach at school that he hadn’t even _noticed_.

Calum had maybe never hated himself _more_.

“What the fuck has he done to you?” Calum demanded and he tried to shout but the words came out like a whimper. The tears spilt down his overheated cheeks but, despite how much he had needed the release, Calum didn’t even notice them. He was too torn up inside as he reached blindly for his mum and felt an awful sinking sensation when she automatically flinched away from him.

“I’ve been a terrible mother, haven’t I?” she asked softly and Calum’s boiling tears _burnt_ him as they coursed down his cheeks, more searing than his lighter held against his skin as Joy struggled not to fall apart in front of him.

“What? No, you haven’t!” he promised, taking her arm gently and trying not to cry when even that made her wince in pain. He dragged one of the kitchen chairs out clumsily with his foot and helped her sit down, biting his lip against the sob that badly wanted to escape him when she held her ribs with a soft groan. “You’re trying really, _really_ hard, mum. Honest you are,” Calum said earnestly, his voice thick with tears. “Dad just makes things difficult. _He’s_ the terrible one, mum. Not you.”

“I’ve failed you,” she insisted, her voice tearful and broken. “I drove Mali away and… and now you’re doing _this_ to yourself,” she gasped out, gesturing shakily to his disgustingly fat body and, honestly, Calum knew he looked awful but having his own mother look so horrified was almost too much. “Just _look_ at you,” Joy pleaded and her next words sent a thrill of fear running through her son. “You’re skin and bones, Calum. How did I not notice something was _wrong_?”

Calum withered in front of her but the denial he so badly wanted to say refused to fall from his lips. She didn’t deserve more secrets and lies, even if she _was_ lying to him now – just like Michael had done – when she insisted that he wasn’t fat. She was still his _mum_ though and she was blaming herself right now and… and maybe it was time Calum tried considering someone else’s needs before his own. Maybe it was time for him to stop being so fucking selfish.

“You did, mum,” he said quietly, his voice blank as he remembered those conversations where Joy had started to guess that something was wrong; when her hand settling on his ribs or she heard him making himself sick, unwilling to believe his excuses. “You did,” he repeated and his throat felt like sandpaper. “I remember.”

“But I wasn’t fast enough,” she murmured, burying her head in her hands for a moment as she struggled to catch her breath. Her nails were cut short and there was no manicure in sight now. The tears spilt down her cheeks like rainwater when she looked up again, her dark eyes just as hollow as her son’s. “I didn’t realise how bad things were until Ashton told us, Calum. I had no _idea_ and… and all this time, you’ve been struggling. You’ve been hurting so, _so_ badly and I was too caught up in my own problems to help you!”

“No one’s going to blame you for that,” Calum argued weakly but, for just a moment, Mali’s agonised expression flickered before his eyes as she told him that she was leaving for good this time. He thought perhaps _she_ would still blame their mother and that made something sour inside Calum because… god, at least Joy had _been_ here. At least she hadn’t fucking _left_ him!

Calum wrapped his arms gently around his mum’s shoulders and Joy cried quietly into his neck, her tears soaking his coat as he pressed a soft guilty kiss to her hair. She smelt like laundry detergent and mint – like his whole childhood wrapped up in one scent – and Calum wanted to hold her tighter but he was too scared of hurting her. Life was so fucking unfair.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me,” his mum whispered, her trembling hand finding Calum’s and gripping it tightly. “But I will be now, love. I promise.”

Calum hung his head in shame, slowly letting his forehead come to rest on her shoulder. His heart felt like it had stopped beating in his chest and his blood felt icy as it pumped around his body, making him feel number than ever. He felt too tired to panic anymore.

“When did Ash speak to you?” he whispered and Joy fell quiet as she tried to think.

“Maybe… a week ago perhaps?” She shrugged listlessly before a sigh of pain escaped her and her hand twitched towards her bruised ribs. “It was the day when you came home later than usual,” she added after a moment’s pause. “I assumed you’d gone to Violet’s.”

Calum froze without meaning to, his gasp too loud in the sudden silence that fell, and Calum knew then that he’d fucked up. He’d reacted unthinkingly and now Joy would _know_ but… hadn’t Calum just decided he was tired of keeping secrets from her?

Maybe this was fate.

“I wasn’t at Violet’s, mum,” he said slowly, his voice strained and tense in the quiet. He held his breath for a moment, trying to be braver than he felt. “I haven’t talked to Violet in a very long time.”

“But… what do you mean?” Joy asked, her confusion apparent in her voice as she frowned up at him. Her eyelashes were still spiky with tears. “She’s your girlfriend, isn’t she? I wanted to meet her.”

Calum cringed, his hands beginning to tremble again as his anxiety flared up inside him like wildfire.

“Violet’s not my girlfriend, mum,” he whispered and he felt like he was going to fall down now… like he was going to collapse on the kitchen floor and never open his eyes again. A part of Calum wished he would. “She never was. We’re not even really _friends_. She’s just a girl from my science class.”

"But –” Joy broke off when she saw the ripple of self-loathing behind the tears overflowing in her youngest child’s eyes. Calum’s knees shook beneath him and he gripped the edge of the table hard in an effort to stay standing. His fear made his breath escape him in gasps and the dread inside threatened to choke him.

"I like Michael, mum,” Calum said and the words felt like choking up broken glass as they tumbled out into the freezing air between them, painful and bloody. “I _love_ him."

Joy’s mouth fell open in shock and Calum’s knees threatened to give way beneath him.

He wanted the tears to stop falling and for the breath to actually enter his lungs again. He wanted to tear himself away from Joy and run until he _couldn’t_ anymore. He wanted to be on the bridge out of town or lying slumped somewhere with an empty bottle of sleeping pills as they started to break down inside him. He wanted everything else to burst into flames and darkness and fucking _terror_ because absolutely **everything** was hurting him now.

He wanted to cry until he couldn’t anymore.

Calum wanted to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3


	93. Lifetime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _“You were never broken,” Calum said and his voice was little more than a whisper over the soft crackling of the paper burning to ashes beneath the vast night sky. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, like he was reminding her he was still there. “You were hurt so,_ so _badly but you weren’t broken, Ashley. You _aren’t_ broken. He is.”_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I've managed to update four times in four days holy shit... This is literally a miracle :')  
> But anyway, just a heads up that this chapter is really, _really_ personal to me so please be kind. (You guys are always kind but you know what I mean haha.) For real though, this felt so cathartic to write. I think this is kind of what I wish someone had said to me. Calum tries to be a good friend, doesn’t he?  
>  This is quite sad but I feel like it’s sort of hopeful too, at least in the end.  
> Also I was super proud of these lyrics :')  
> Fingers crossed you guys enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!
> 
> Trigger warning for mentions of past rape/sexual assault.

**_Do you wish that you could cut yourself out of your skin?_ **

**_Well, join the club, yeah, join the club._ **

_\- Join The Club, Bring Me The Horizon_

 

Ashley seemed to realise Calum was in a state the moment he turned up at her front door without calling. It was already close to midnight and her parents’ cars were parked in the driveway but she still came out to meet him the very moment he texted her, struggling into a jacket over her pyjamas as she searched for him. He stumbled out of the shadows and he could barely breathe as she drew him gently into her arms, holding him warm against her chest.

The only sounds were the wind whistling through the trees and the high-pitched yowling of two cats fighting in an alley nearby. Ashley shushed him gently as he choked on a sob and Calum remembered the _last_ few times he’d been here for a moment… those long summer days where he'd got high in the garden with Ashley… or that night at the party when a drunken Calum tried to tell Michael he loved him over the phone… but Calum had told his mother his secrets and Joy _knew_ now, and nothing was the same anymore.

“Cal?” Ashley whispered and her voice was so, _so_ frightened. “What’s wrong, gorgeous? Why are you here so late? Did something happen?”

“Mum knows.” The words forced their way out of Calum and it felt painful to say them out loud, tasted hot and bitter in his mouth. “I… I told her almost _everything_ , Ash, and now she knows about Michael and… and about my… my…” He trailed away hopelessly and Ashley’s voice sounded thick when she spoke next, like she was speaking past the lump in her throat.

“You told her about your eating disorder,” she supplied faintly and Calum froze against her chest because of _course_ he didn’t have an eating disorder. Not **him**. That… that just wasn’t _possible_ , was it? How could that have happened to him without him noticing? She must be wrong. That was the only explanation that made any sense.

“You’re shivering,” Ashley murmured, and he was. “Come inside out of the cold. We’ve gotta be quiet though, okay? My parents are asleep.”

Calum followed her numbly, his eyelashes sticky with tears and his dark eyes exhausted as she motioned for him to stop in the hallway so that she could remove her jacket. She was wearing a faded grey t-shirt and some black shorts underneath, and her choppy jaw-length hair was still a vibrant bluish-green. Calum wiped his eyes hard with the sleeve of his coat as he gazed around, taking in the tasteful decorations and the collection of shoes thrown haphazardly around the shadowy hallway.

“Let’s go sit in the conservatory,” she said softly, glancing hesitantly towards the dark stairs before she reached to take his hand gently. “We’ll be furthest away from my parents then so they’re less likely to wake up. Do you want a hot drink maybe? You look freezing.”

Calum hesitated, clearly torn as he gazed at Ashley in anguish. He was so cold he couldn’t feel his fingers properly now but… but hot drinks meant _calories_ and Calum tried to avoid those at all costs, and he didn’t think he could stand to feel more self-hatred tonight. He already felt like he was drowning in it.

“We have green tea in the kitchen,” Ashley said softly, keeping her voice calm and reassuring. “And there’s less than two calories in a mug of green tea, gorgeous. You’ll have burnt that off by the time you walk into the conservatory. Metabolism is a thing, yeah?”

Calum found himself nodding without thinking and Ashley looked heartened as she led the way into the kitchen. It looked different in the dark when Calum was sober and he shivered a little, wrapping his arms tightly around himself as the older girl dropped two tea bags into some matching mugs. The kettle clicked off softly once it was boiled and Calum heaved a quiet sigh of relief when he wrapped his fingers around the hot mug, following the older girl into the conservatory and shutting the door behind them. She sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her, and the last of the tension he’d been carrying bled away when she draped a woollen blanket over his legs which had, until that point, been lying abandoned on an armchair nearby.

“You look a bit warmer now,” Ashley noticed and she was speaking in her normal voice now, low and familiar. Her eyes were nothing but kind. Calum ducked his head, too tired to be ashamed of the heat blooming in his cheeks as his dark curls fell thinly across his forehead. They’d been so much thicker once and he remembered again her saying he had an eating disorder… but Calum wasn’t sick, was he? He _couldn’t_ be.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, when he could finally find his voice again. “You’re a good friend.”

“I’m the best,” she teased but her eyes became sadder as she watched him and he felt bad when she began to bite her bottom lip nervously, her pale face worried. “You’ve been keeping to yourself a lot lately, huh?” she murmured and he shrugged uncomfortably. Ashley’s face fell. “I don’t like it when you’re not around, gorgeous, and I know Leish feels the same. We’ve been so worried about you. So, _so_ worried.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to tell her,” Calum muttered but he was too tired to panic now… too shell-shocked and dazed, and fucking _broken_. Ashley rested her hand lightly on his knee through the blanket and Calum let his head tip back onto the cushions, trying to act like he _wasn’t_ so dizzy he couldn’t even stay sitting upright anymore. The scar on his knuckle itched.

“I didn’t tell her. I’d never break a promise,” Ashley chided gently and, possibly against the odds, Calum believed her. “We’re just worried that you haven’t been around. You don’t think we’re judging you, do you? Because we’d never do that, Cal. Not ever. We _love_ you.”

“I love you guys too,” Calum whispered but the tears were brimming in his eyes again and the dark-haired boy was too weak to stop them. Part of him didn’t even care anymore. He was too empty.

“Do you remember the last time we talked properly?” Ashley asked him suddenly, breaking the fragile silence that had settled with a wariness he hadn’t seen in her before. “The last time we were alone?”

“Yeah,” Calum said, fighting back tears as he remembered. His hands were trembling now and he focused on calming his breathing as he raised the mug to take the tiniest sip. Ashley’s relief was poorly-masked when he looked over at her through exhausted eyes. “You found out about… me.”

“I’d sort of wondered anyway,” she said quietly, raking her fingers through her short, wavy hair as she peered up through the glass at the night sky outside. “I think maybe I knew.” She fell silent but her eyes were fixed on his face and Calum wanted to bristle indignantly but he didn’t even have the energy for that anymore. “You hurt yourself too, don’t you?” she asked blandly. “Not by starving yourself and doing whatever the fuck else you do. I mean, like, cutting.” She was paler now but there was an almost knowing look in her eyes that made Calum shiver despite himself.

“How did you work that one out?” he asked and Ashley shrugged, smiling humourlessly down into the cooling contents of her drink.

“I think it’s easier to notice when you’ve been there yourself,” she admitted. Calum’s breath caught painfully in his throat as he processed that, and Ashley wouldn’t meet his gaze as she gestured with a self-deprecating little smile to where her hips and thighs must have been scarred. Calum’s hand was trembling when he reached out to tangle their fingers together.

“I understand,” he said and, despite normally feeling like Aleisha was closer to him, he couldn’t tell her things like this so easily. Then again, hadn’t that always been part of Ashley’s charm? She might find it difficult to be serious but she was always there when he needed to talk. She always _had_ been. This was just the first time Calum had chosen to take her up on her offer.

“I’m glad you’re my friend, gorgeous,” she said softly and the younger boy smiled, his full lips curving upwards before he could stop himself as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before returning it to his mug.

“I’m glad you’re my friend too,” he said honestly. “I don’t know anyone else like you. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”

Ashley pulled a face, turning away to hide how much her cheeks were flaming, and Calum didn’t regret his honesty for even a moment. He tangled their legs together gently as he settled back on the sofa and Ashley sighed, shooting the younger boy a wry smile when she finally risked looking up at him.

“I’m not that strong,” she said bluntly. “I keep crying because I’m scared of failing my exams and not making it to college. Is that something strong people do?”

“I think that’s something people who are putting too much pressure on themselves do,” he corrected her mildly but the concern in his eyes was evident. “Do you know how proud I am of you for doing all this?” he asked and she looked up at him in confusion. Calum’s lips twitched into a weak smile but it quickly bled away as his expression became serious. “You really are one of the strongest people I know,” he repeated and his voice was more sincere than she had probably ever heard it. “You’ve been through so much crap in the last few years from what I’ve heard but you’re still powering through; still trying to _make_ something of yourself. You’re so damn brave, Ash. I can’t tell you that enough.”

She set her mug shakily on a low coffee table nearby, covering her cheeks with her hands and groaning weakly. Apparently she didn’t know how to deal with praise and the nervous energy bubbling inside her was tangible as she looked at him helplessly.

“No offence but…” Calum bit his lip for a moment, shrugging half-heartedly when her embarrassed expression became mildly curious. “You’re sort of starting to look a bit better, Ash.”

“You’re not,” she countered but he knew it was only because she was upset so he let it pass without comment. “I’ve been going to these counselling sessions though and, like, they weren’t really working at first - or they didn’t _feel_ like they were anyway, which is almost the same thing - but… but now I feel like they kind of _are_ and it’s actually pretty helpful?” It sounded like a question and she glanced over at him nervously as she spoke. Calum squared his jaw, fairly certain he could see where this was headed. “Have you ever considered -”

“Don’t,” he cut in and Ashley’s cheeks flushed with blood.

“ _Okay_ ,” the older girl continued smoothly, her brow creasing. “But, like I said, it’s really starting to help me. We’ve been working on these new exercises and they’re sort of messing my head up a lot but I think they’ll probably be useful in the end… y’know, if I’m ever actually brave enough to _do_ them.”

“Well, what are they?” Calum asked curiously, grateful for the distraction from his own tumultuous thoughts as his traitorous mind tried to picture exactly what his mum might be doing right now, left all alone at home as she tried to process everything her youngest child had told her before running from the house. “I mean, obviously only talk about them if you _want_ to but… I don’t know. It might help.”

“Talking _does_ help… but only with certain people,” Ashley admitted before she saw the downcast expression on his face and rolled her eyes fondly. “You’re one of those people, gorgeous. _Duh_.”

“Rude,” Calum muttered, making her smile. It died on her face though and she took an unsteady breath as she looked at him, clearly deciding whether he seemed stable enough to deal with whatever she was about to unload on him right now.

“We were talking about Noah in my last session,” she said softly and, at the perplexed expression on the younger boy’s face, she hesitantly elaborated. “Noah is the ex who… who forced me. The guy I was dating at the beginning of last year.”

Calum’s expression darkened but he stayed quiet, biting his lip to stay silent because he was aware of how badly she needed to get this out once and for all, before she was eaten alive by it.

“My counsellor - her name’s Linda, by the way - well, she wanted me to write about what happened. She wanted me to write down how I felt and the things he said, and what it made me feel like… what he made me _do_ -” Ashley’s voice threatened to break here but she powered through it and Calum had never been more proud of anyone. “- and… and I did it. I got it all out on paper; wrote it by hand too, because I think it feels like there’s more intention behind it when you write that way… feels like you really _are_ getting all of those shitty things out of your head.” Ashley shook her head slowly but her face was pale beneath her aquamarine hair now. “There are ten pages of it,” she whispered suddenly and her eyes looked damp. “I have them all in my room.”

“And did it help?” Calum asked gently, aware that he was probably going to cry later but fighting against it for now. “Do you feel better for having written it?”

Ashley shrugged uneasily, ducking her head and wiping her eyes subtly with the pad of her thumb.

“A tiny bit, maybe,” she said doubtfully. “But I haven’t done everything Linda said yet. She wanted me to burn it too… wanted me to imagine that, like, my anxiety and pain were burning up too? She says I’ll probably always feel angry about it - I’ll probably always grieve for the things he took from me - but she says it won’t be as bad as this forever if I learn to let go of some of it. If I just let myself _heal_.”

“I think maybe she’s right,” Calum said quietly but he was scrutinising her carefully now, taking in the faint tightening around her eyes that hinted at fear. “Why didn’t you burn it, Ash? What’s stopping you?”

“I’m scared,” she choked out and the tears were sliding down her cheeks again now, and no matter how gently Calum wiped them away, more fell in their place. “I’m scared that my parents will see and ask what I’m doing, and then I’ll have to tell them what happened. I’m scared that doing this now will bring it all back. I don’t want to have the nightmares again, Cal. I can’t _stand_ it.” She shook her head back and forth, squaring her jaw against the sob that wanted to escape. “I just… I _know_ it would help if I burnt it. I know it would because that would be so cathartic but… I’m too _scared_ , Cal. I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

Calum set his own mug down with trembling hands before he reached to tangle their fingers together again, rubbing his thumb comfortingly over her palm. She looked up at him with eyes that were glittering with tears and Calum tried to smile at her but it felt too sharp on his face.

“Do you want to burn it now?” he asked and it felt wrong to speak louder than a murmur. “Because if you _do_ then I promise I won’t leave you. I’m not going anywhere.” The words didn’t feel like a lie for once and he thought Ashley might be able to see the truth of it on his face because her lips parted in shock as she gazed at him.

“You’d really do that for me?” she asked, apparently disbelieving. Calum brushed a chaste kiss over her knuckles.

“You’re one of my best friends on the whole planet,” he muttered, cheeks heating a little. “I don’t think there’s _anything_ I wouldn’t do for you guys… but I’d especially like to help you do this. You mean the world to me, Ash. You don’t deserve to be hurting like this.”

Her pale face creased into a faint smile and she nodded, biting her bottom lip hard as she apparently tried to steel herself. She nodded slowly when he tilted his head curiously to the side and Calum felt his dimples faintly creasing his cheeks when she stood up, giving him a weak smile.

“I’m gonna go get my notepad,” she decided, snagging some keys from a hook nearby and tossing them lightly to the dark-haired boy who caught them reflexively. “You unlock the back door and go find the barbecue, okay? At least if we burn the paper on that then we won’t set fire to the garden.”

Calum shot her a crooked smile as she scampered off deeper into the house and he watched her go for a moment, his expression sobering once she was no longer looking at him. It felt hard to try and be positive now but he could tell she needed it.

To tell the truth, he was almost _glad_ the night had ended up the way it had. At least now he had someone else’s problems to focus on rather than his own. At least this way he could pretend that his world hadn’t fallen apart for just a few hours.

She re-appeared just as he got the barbecue set up on the patio, dressed in her jacket once more and clutching a notepad tightly in one hand as she shushed him weakly when the metal screeched against the stones. They both froze but her parents’ bedroom light stayed turned off and the night remained silent around them. Luckily they were still in the clear.

“Do you have a lighter?” she whispered and Calum’s lips twitched humourlessly.

“Always,” he promised, passing it over to her hesitantly. He dropped down to sit cross-legged in the damp grass after a moment and, although it hurt his bones, he found he couldn’t regret it when she shot him a grateful look. “I’ll be right here,” he reminded her and she ducked her head shyly. “I promise.”

“Thank you,” she said before she took a deep breath, turning to the matter at hand.

The sound of the pages being torn free seemed loud in the silence as she ripped at them but the older girl barely seemed to notice as she crumpled them up into tiny balls, seemingly taking great delight in crushing them between her fingers like that. She dropped them one by one onto the cold metal of the barbecue and Calum heard the little shuddering breath she drew in when she finally raised the lighter.

He could see her shaking even from where he was sitting and Calum reached out towards her hesitantly. The only part of her that he could reach was her ankle and he curled his hand around it hesitantly, rubbing his thumb comfortingly over the smooth skin as she jumped in surprise before smiling at him a little bashfully. Her eyes were determined and her teeth were gritted, and he knew then that she was strong enough to do this. She seemed to realise it too.

The lighter sputtered to life and the pair of them gazed at the flame for a moment, taking in the flickering light as it danced in the darkness. She tried to light the edge of the first crumpled ball of paper and, as one, they held their breath, waiting to see if it would catch alight.

A light breeze picked up and Ashley began to look frantic when, after another couple of tries, she still hadn't got them burning. Calum pushed himself shakily to his feet, coming to stand closer behind her.

“Don’t give up,” he whispered. “Don’t let him hold this over you for the rest of your life. You deserve to _live_.”

Her damp eyes turned steely as she processed that but she tried again, lifting one of the pieces of paper and holding it over the lighter while Calum shielded the tiny flame with his hands. This time it caught and the gentle crackling sounded loud in the quiet as she carefully let the burning paper settle back with the rest.

“There we go,” Calum murmured, reaching out to take her hand when she looked over at him jerkily, her eyes wild. “Just breathe, Ash. Try to let the pain go.”

Calum knew it was so much easier said than done but the older girl seemed to understand what he meant. They both knew she’d never recover if she didn’t at least try to release some of her anger and this would be cathartic if she could let it work.

 _God_ , Calum hoped she let it work.

The fire popped and cracked but the noises were so soft beneath the sound of their ragged breathing.

Calum squeezed Ashley’s hand and she squeezed it right back.

The stars turned slowly in the sky overhead as the flames died down and, after what felt like a lifetime, Ashley finally broke the silence.

“I felt so powerless,” she breathed, her weary eyes glazed with tears and reflecting the dancing amber of the firelight. Calum hated the pain on her face… hated how fucking _hollow_ it made her look, even as the sparks drifted up into the night and she stood a little taller because of it.

“I’ve never felt so vulnerable in my life,” she continued softly, her eyes still fixed on the flames. “I… I felt ashamed. I felt _responsible_... like what had happened was my fault. He… when I broke up with him, he said: ‘If you drop me, I’ll keep falling’. Like _he_ was the one who was hurting. He made me feel like… like I only hated it because there was something _wrong_ with me. Because I was _broken_ or - or -”

“You were never broken,” Calum said and his voice was little more than a whisper over the soft crackling of the paper burning to ashes beneath the vast night sky. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, like he was reminding her he was still there. “You were hurt so, _so_ badly but you weren’t broken, Ashley. You _aren’t_ broken. He is.”

“Noah is,” she repeated before a tear ran down her cheek and she snorted loudly. “Fucking Noah,” she spat and then a slightly hysterical bubble of laughter escaped her, and Calum didn’t know whether to smile or cry.

“Fucking Noah,” he agreed, kicking feebly at the barbecue for good measure. Ashley snorted again but there was a little more light in her eyes now, like she’d drank some of the fire in and kept it burning inside, and Calum was so fucking glad of that.

Ashley’s fingers felt warm between his own.

“You’re so brave,” he whispered and he was quite certain he’d never meant anything more. “ _So_ damn brave, Ashley.”

She shifted a little closer, let her head fall to rest gently on his shoulder as his arm wrapped loosely around her waist. They stood there together in the inky blackness, watching as the burnt paper turned to ashes that drifted away into the night.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Calum murmured when the last curl of flame had burnt out. Ashley’s breath escaped her in a shaky sigh. She looked over at him with tangled hair and eyelashes that were spiky with tears, and Calum felt his heart throb painfully in his chest. “What do you need right now?” he asked gently and Ashley gave a jerky shrug, shuddering a little as a soft sob tore out of her.

“A hug,” she croaked tearfully and Calum’s lips twitched weakly as the tears boiled over in his eyes.

“C’mere then,” he murmured, opening his arms at once. Ashley barrelled into him and folded herself up tight against his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin and hiding her face as a broken sob tore out of her.

All Calum could focus on were her trembling hands settled on his ribs and the fact that, for the first time in a _long_ time, the gentle touch didn’t make him pull away. He didn’t even _want_ to because Ashley needed him and this was more important than anything right now.

Her tears were soaking the front of his sweatshirt and he carded his fingers through her soft hair soothingly, realising with a jolt of shock that he could almost _feel_ again. Almost.

Another soft sob escaped Ashley and Calum dropped a gentle kiss onto her forehead.

“You okay, Ash?” he murmured but she only hugged him tighter, keeping her face tucked away so that her voice came out muffled when finally deigned to respond.

“Burning that kind of… helped.” Her voice was small and quiet but the uncertainty had faded now, and Calum thought he could already see a change in her. He was more proud than he could put into words.

“I love you, you pyro,” Calum muttered stupidly, keen to make her laugh again. It worked luckily. Ashley let out a weak giggle and shoved him lightly on the arm.

“Shut up, you moron,” she said but she was grinning now as she finally stepped back, wiping her eyes and trying half-heartedly to fix her hair before she seemed to give it up as a lost cause. “You know I love you too.”

“I know,” Calum said and his smile almost felt real now. “I’m so proud of you, gorgeous.”

The nickname fell from his tongue naturally and something softened in her tear-stained face as she gazed at him in surprise, her eyes warm and sparkly, and he wondered for just a moment if anyone besides him had ever called her that and _meant_ it before.

Calum hoped they had because she deserved to be told how wonderful she was.

Ashley’s heart was _golden_.

Calum never wanted it to get broken again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and I just wanted to tell you that your comments mean the absolute world to me!  
> I’m not sure if I’ll be able to update tomorrow as work is really, _really_ busy and I have counselling too but I promise I’ll do my best. If not, fingers crossed it’ll be the day after but I really will try.  
>  Again, thank you so, so much. I hope you’re all doing good <3  
> Please let me know what you thought by leaving comments and kudos :)


	94. Good Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _Calum wanted so much to tell Michael how sorry he was; how much he_ loved _him even, that rejection in the bathroom all but forgotten... except the words were catching painfully in his chest and the death in his heart was still there even now - worse than it_ ever _was before - and Calum thought that might have been the most painful part… to be_ this _close to finally having what they wanted, only to have it snatched away from them at the last hurdle._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Five days running, who'd have thought it?  
> Believe it or not, this was actually supposed to be a happy chapter but instead I just made myself sad. Who needs to follow a story plan anyway, right? (Me. _I_ do.)  
>  Fingers crossed you'll all enjoy!!

**_Just a perfect day._ **

**_You made me forget myself._ **

**_I thought I was someone else,_ **

**_Someone good._ **

**_Oh, it's such a perfect day._ **

**_I'm glad I spent it with you._ **

_\- Perfect Day, Lou Reed_

 

Christmas came and went without much in the way of celebration. Calum’s dad had flat-out refused to put the tree up and the only change in routine that day was when Calum finally answered the phone to his sister, speaking to her briefly and wishing her well before he ended the call.

He’d exchanged little token gifts with his friends but Calum’s heart hadn’t been in it and he could barely remember what he’d got them now. It felt like a million years ago and he knew there was something _badly_ wrong with feeling that way but there was nothing he could do to change it. Every minute felt like another day to struggle through now.

They hadn’t really celebrated Michael’s seventeenth birthday either, Calum realised belatedly, with a sinking feeling in his chest. The older boy had insisted that he didn’t want them to even acknowledge it and, possibly against their better judgement, they’d actually listened to him. Calum wondered if Michael regretted that now. He knew _he_ certainly did. Michael deserved so much more than that.

The pair of them were walking on the beach now, their arms linked loosely despite how painfully it was rubbing the inside of Calum’s wrist. It was a cold, bleak day and the rain was pouring down in sheets, chilling them to the bone as they huddled together to stay warm. The pair of them were bundled up in coats and scarves but it wasn’t doing much to keep the cold out, and Calum’s teeth were chattering as they carefully sidestepped where the damp sand met the churning grey ocean.

“I’m sorry we didn’t do anything for your birthday,” Calum mumbled and Michael looked up at him in surprise, his green eyes tired and sad in his pale face. His cherry-red lips parted in confusion. His vibrant blue hair was plastered to the pearly skin of his forehead.

“What are you talking about, Cal?” Michael frowned. “That was back in November. It’s already January now.” He was watching the dark-haired boy with a curious mixture of bemusement and worry, and Calum missed the old days back when Michael’s eyes still sparkled when he looked at him. He'd loved those times so much.

“Yeah, I know,” Calum muttered with an awkward shrug. “It’s just… you told us not to do anything for it this year but… but we actually _listened_.” Michael’s teeth sank into his bottom lip but he made a conscious effort to harden his expression as he gazed out to sea. “I wish we hadn’t,” Calum murmured.

Michael’s arm slipped from Calum’s to hang limply by his side and Calum nodded to himself, pressing his lips together hard to hide the hurt he was feeling at the small rejection. The blue-haired boy must have seen the pain in his eyes though because he looked upset although he didn’t move to take the younger boy's arm again. Calum drifted a little further away as the pair of them continued their walk.

“It’s alright,” Michael said after far too long, his tone dismissive and a little stiff. “It would’ve just been sad probably. We’re all too messed up to have fun anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Calum disagreed weakly, even if the older boy probably _did_ have a point. “I can still have fun with Aleisha and Ashley sometimes,” he added unthinkingly. Michael’s expression soured visibly at that.

“Well, that’s lucky for you,” he muttered, stalking away. Calum watched him go, utterly perplexed, before he shook himself and staggered after him, almost too dizzy to keep his feet under him. If Calum had glanced back, he would have seen how wobbly the line of his footsteps became once he stepped away from Michael. Calum didn’t look back though because there was no point. The only thing he could focus on anymore was Michael.

“Hey! Would you wait a minute?” Calum asked exasperatedly and Michael just shrugged, clearly sulking. It almost made the dark-haired boy laugh which clearly wouldn’t have been helpful but he couldn’t quite hide the fondness he was feeling all the same. “Mikey?” Calum said and the older boy grunted to show that he was listening. Calum rolled his eyes, definitely smiling now. “If you hadn’t walked off in a strop then I could’ve said ‘ _but I have even more fun with you_ ’.” Michael's sour expression became hopeful and, although he couldn’t have said why, Calum reached out to poke him lightly on the nose. Michael screwed his face up, grinning weakly. “Don’t you remember the All Time Low concert?” Calum prompted softly. “ _That_ was fun, wasn’t it?”

“It was the best,” Michael said grudgingly but he looked mollified now. “I didn’t walk off anywhere in a ‘strop’ though,” he added grumpily, apparently fighting a smile. “I walk everywhere in strides with great dignity. I have _poise_.”

Calum snorted. “Loser,” he said helpfully and Michael stuck his tongue out teasingly at him.

“Says the guy wearing an anorak." Michael looked triumphant when Calum’s lips twitched weakly.

“Touché,” the dark-haired boy said. “So can we agree that you were being a gigantic baby and that you're probably _still_ the most fun person I know, even despite all the shit that’s happened?”

Michael’s expression became a little tighter but the soft smile remained on his face and Calum was glad of that.

“I think we can probably agree on that,” the older boy said softly but his green eyes were fractionally warmer now. “Pull your hood up properly, Cal,” he muttered. “Your hair's getting soaked.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to say that really,” Calum pointed out as he reached up hesitantly to comb the older boy’s soaked blue hair back from his forehead. Michael barely flinched but something in his eyes clouded over as his freezing hands settled on Calum’s shoulders and it felt like the simplest thing in the world when Calum stretched up to kiss him.

Michael’s nose was cold when it brushed against his and the icy raindrops running like tears down their wind-reddened faces were in sharp contrast to the heat of Michael’s mouth. The older boy hummed contentedly when Calum worked his fingers through his hair and Calum’s heart felt like it was going to burst in his chest when Michael drew back, only to scatter tiny kisses over the younger boy’s jaw as he pulled away.

For just a moment, Calum let his eyes slide shut with contentment. He knew they could share moments like this all the time if they actually let themselves _have_ this and that burnt like the worst kind of pain; the realisation that, in some less warped version of reality, they might already be spending their lives together.

Calum wanted that more than anything now.

“It’ll be _your_ birthday soon,” Michael blurted out of nowhere, still gazing at Calum with what _might_ have been tears in his eyes. His pale hands looked sore in the cold and Calum reached out hesitantly, making sure Michael had seen and nodded before he tangled their fingers together. Calum still wasn’t sure exactly what bothered Michael about it but he didn’t want to make him more uncomfortable than he already was. The older boy was _far_ too important for that.

“I don’t really like birthdays,” Calum said after what felt like a long time, feeling a little surprised now that he processed the date. It felt strange to realise that he would be seventeen in just a few short weeks but he wasn’t going to celebrate it. That felt a bit moot this year since he wasn’t exactly expecting to reach the age of eighteen.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest when he thought about that and he gripped Michael’s hand tighter, swallowing back the panic he could feel threatening to engulf him. He knew it was a bad idea to let Michael comfort him like this but Calum couldn’t help it.

It didn’t matter that he’d made a decision not to let the older boy get too close to him, for Michael’s _own_ sake. It didn’t matter that Calum had planned to push Michael away so he wouldn’t get hurt. Clearly all of his good intentions went out the window when Michael was here to hold his hand like this.

Calum pulled away as they headed back towards the road and Michael turned too slowly to hide the way his expression crumpled into sadness. Calum hated that he was the cause of the pain he could see on the older boy’s face more than he could put into words.

“I thought…” Michael broke the silence quite suddenly but his voice trailed away as he mulled over his words. Calum’s trembling hands were buried in his pockets now and he could feel his empty stomach twisting sickeningly with nausea. “I thought we were getting better,” Michael said finally and he was breathing hard, like he’d just ran a race. He gazed at Calum with so much desperation and, abruptly, the dark-haired boy remembered his thoughts that night when he’d decided that the kindest thing to do if Michael started to fall for him again was to just leave… to take himself out of the situation. Calum was starting to wonder if he was already too late.

“I thought we were almost okay again,” Michael admitted faintly, his green eyes swimming with tears now. “Or I _wanted_ us to be anyway but… I don’t think we are at all, are we?” He was shaking a little bit, his sore hands curled into unconscious fists as his shoulders sagged like he was carrying a great weight. “Sometimes it doesn’t even feel like we’re _close_ to being okay.”

Calum wanted so much to tell Michael how sorry he was; how much he _loved_ him even, that rejection in the bathroom all but forgotten... except the words were catching painfully in his chest and the death in his heart was still there even now - worse than it _ever_ was before - and Calum thought that might have been the most painful part… to be _this_ close to finally having what they wanted, only to have it snatched away from them at the last hurdle.

Life was never fair anymore.

Most of Calum just wanted it to be _over_ now and, when he saw the abrupt horrified realisation flooding the older boy’s face, Calum just _knew_ the older boy could see it in his eyes.

“Cally?” Michael whispered and the blue-haired boy's heart was racing in his chest now, thumping painfully fast when he saw the faint light in Calum’s eyes threatening to sputter out like candlelight in a strong wind as the tears fell down his sunken cheeks. “It’s okay, Cal. Please don’t cry. _Please_.”

Michael couldn’t put into words how frightened he felt now because he might be scared of a _lot_ of things - like his mother and wanting to crawl out of his skin; like losing Graham or becoming as much of a coward as his father was; like how fragile Luke was or how destroyed Ashton seemed, or the haunted look in his uncle’s eyes - but, mostly, it was Calum.

Michael was terrified for him but he was terrified **of** him too.

Sometimes Michael felt like he didn’t know who the younger boy was anymore, even _despite_ being so deeply in love with him, and the awful sensation that they were waiting for something terrible to arrive only grew stronger with every passing day.

Sometimes it felt like it was all getting to be too much and Michael didn’t know how he could _survive_ any more pain now.

He felt like he was being burnt alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and being so supportive!  
> We're seeing an old character in the next chapter who I have a weird soft spot for... I wonder if any of you will guess?  
> Can't wait to hear what you thought <3


	95. Olive Branch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _For possibly the first time in his life, Michael was glad he’d met Charlie Barker._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I can't believe this is the sixth update in as many days but I'm genuinely really proud of myself :')  
> One of my favourite characters returns in this chapter and I really hope I did this justice! I don't love the ending but I think that's just because I re-read it too many times.  
> Fingers crossed you'll all enjoy <3

**_Tossing, turning, struggled through the night with someone new,_ **

**_And I could go on and on, on and on._ **

**_Lantern burning, flickered in my mind for only you,_ **

**_But you're still gone, gone, gone._ **

_\- This Love, Taylor Swift_

 

Michael was badly hurting. He wanted thing to work out with Calum so, _so_ much but it didn’t feel like it was possible anymore. He could feel Calum slipping through his fingers like smoke and, no matter how desperately Michael clutched at the younger boy, it did no good.

Calum was all but lost to him.

Michael couldn’t sit in the house anymore. Graham spoke to him in a soft, gentle voice – like he was afraid his nephew was going to _break_ – and Daryl had stopped by the other evening under the guise of going to the supermarket, although the blue-haired boy had been gaming round at Dan’s house. Michael didn’t know what it meant that his dad had lied to Karen but Michael hated that he missed Daryl so badly. It made him feel _drained_.

Michael’s shoes were dragging on the rain-wet pavement as he stumbled along, his green eyes damp as he forced the tears not to fall. He didn’t think he could stand feeling the stickiness of them on his cheeks tonight and it wasn’t like there was any way he could wash up properly because he was already in town now, just wandering through the dark empty streets until he was tired enough to go home and _sleep_.

That felt like all Michael wanted to do anymore: just sleep and _forget_ for a few hours. Graham worried that Michael was sleeping so much because he was depressed but Michael thought it was a lot simpler than that because, even with the nightmares he would inevitably have, sleeping felt like respite… an escape from a reality that Michael was so painfully lost in.

His feet carried him to The Daily Grind almost unconsciously and Michael didn’t know why he’d come here. He had no money with him and he wasn’t wearing a jacket either; his lips were almost blue with cold and he was _freezing_ but he lived in Australia, damnit! Why did it have to get so cold at night?

The bell above the door chimed softly and Michael felt bleary as he walked in, taking in the soft chatter and the bright lights as his weariness threatened to overwhelm him. He swayed uncertainly on his feet and reached out to steady himself on the countertop although it was the _last_ thing he wanted to touch. There was an Ed Sheeran song playing quietly over the radio and Michael lips twisted into a humourless smile when he processed the lyrics.

“ _Oh, I’m a mess right now, inside out, search for a sweet surrender but this is not the end._ ”

A tear rolled down Michael’s cheek without his permission and, through the dampness blurring his eyes, Charlie’s worried face appeared in front of him. The black-haired boy’s apron was folded over his arm and he was staring at the taller boy with poorly-disguised concern.

“Hey, Michael,” Charlie said quietly, his dark eyes cautious when the older boy sniffed tearfully. “Are you okay, man? You look a bit wrecked…” Michael’s lips pressed together into a thin smile and his shaky grip on the counter tightened. He didn’t think he’d ever heard a better description of him before.

“Yeah, I’m… yeah…” Michael’s voice trailed away vaguely and his smile felt like it didn’t sit right on his face. “I don’t know why I came here,” he mumbled but his hands were shaking badly as they fell to hang limply by his sides. “I haven’t even got any cash.”

“This can be my treat then,” Charlie decided, shrugging half-heartedly when the blue-haired boy jerked his head up to look at him. “I was about to go on my break anyway so you can sit with me if you like. I’ll only be in the back room with a coffee or something and, quite frankly, you look like you could do with a hot drink. Your lips almost match your hair, man.”

“Blue’s always been a good colour on me,” Michael joked weakly but it made Charlie grin anyway and that was what he’d been aiming for. “Can you make mine a tea though please? If I have coffee now I’ll be awake all night.”

“Fair enough,” Charlie said, getting to work fixing their drinks before he passed his apron to a tall, pretty girl who’d just appeared in the doorway behind the counter. “Here you are, Vanessa,” the black-haired boy added, giving her a reassuring smile when she looked at Michael curiously. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes, okay?”

“Sure,” she said, moving aside to let Michael and Charlie pass her. Her eyes were soft as she took in Michael’s tear-streaked face and she was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she slipped the apron on over her head. “I hope your friend’s okay, Charlie,” she added gently.

Charlie caught Michael’s gaze and the blue-haired boy shrugged infinitesimally. Neither of them corrected her.

It was warm in the back room and Michael sank down onto the low sofa there with a heavy sigh. He was still shivering even when Charlie passed him his mug of tea – and if the feeling of the mug against his skin made him want to wash his hands in bleach, no one else had to know – but the black-haired boy still looked uncertain. He was scrutinising Michael carefully, clearly taking in his trembles and the bluish tinge to his lips, and he disappeared into the hallway outside for a moment before reappearing triumphantly with a large hoodie in his hands. He draped it over the taller boy’s shoulders and Michael managed a weak smile.

The inside of the jacket was fleecy and the blue-haired boy kicked his trainers off, bringing his legs up onto the sofa so that he could cross them beneath him. The hoodie was almost like a blanket around him because Charlie was a _lot_ broader in the shoulders but there was something comforting about it all the same and, for possibly the first time in his life, Michael was glad he’d met Charlie Barker.

“Thank you,” the blue-haired boy said softly, lowering his gaze as his cheeks heated. The tea slipped warm and comforting down his throat, and Charlie let out a quiet sigh as he dropped down lightly onto the sofa beside the taller boy. Michael felt surprisingly safe sitting there beside the ex-football player and he could see in the casual slope of the smaller boy’s shoulders that he felt the same.

“So I came out to my parents,” Charlie said suddenly, glancing over at Michael and biting his bottom lip uneasily when the blue-haired boy looked over at him warily. “You remember when I told you I was going to?”

“Of course I do,” Michael said quietly. “You bought me a tea _then_ too. I should really start carrying my wallet.” The blue-haired boy was joking of course; Charlie had offered to pay for it last time in an attempt to apologise for the way he had treated Michael and the blue-haired boy had accepted the olive branch for what it was. He’d figured Charlie deserved a second chance.

“Seems like they’ve known forever now but it never seemed like the right time to tell you,” Charlie said with a little shrug. Michael listened with a lump rising in his throat and his trembling hands gripping the mug so tightly that his fingertips became bloodless. “They were… y’know, weirdly cool about it? I kind of figured they just _wouldn’t_ be but I guess they only made all those comments during my childhood because they didn’t understand it. They’re trying really hard now, even if they _are_ struggling. I’ve been pretty lucky with it.”

“Then I’m glad,” Michael choked out, hating that he felt like he was about to start crying. His blue hair was sticking up messily around his pale face and one of his sore knuckles was beading blood. Michael’s skin was going blotchy with how upset he was. “I’m happy for you.”

“Mike?” Charlie’s voice was strained and the taller boy realised with a dull jolt of surprise that the ex-football player had never called him that before. “Mike, what’s wrong? You know you can talk to me if you want to, right? It doesn’t have to go further than here.”

Michael’s eyes were blazing but he couldn’t work out what the complicated tangle of emotions in his chest were; he just knew that he felt like he was burning up and freezing, and shattering and cracking, and breaking into a million tiny little pieces that no one would ever be able to fix again.

“Talk to me,” Charlie urged softly, reaching out to nudge the door shut with his foot. “You listened to me last time, right? So I figure I owe you.”

“I… I don’t want you to feel obligated,” Michael gasped out, hating that he sounded so weak and pathetic but unable to do anything about it. “You’re not –”

“I know I’m not,” Charlie said quietly, his voice reassuring. He didn’t reach out to touch the taller boy but he looked like he was considering it for a moment and a low sob escaped Michael when he slumped to let his head rest on the black-haired boy’s shoulder. “I _know_ ,” Charlie repeated gently, his dark eyes surprised but so shockingly _kind_ that it took the taller boy’s breath away. “Just let it out, Mike. I’m right here – and drink your tea,” he added jokingly. “It’s getting cold.”

Michael let out a watery laugh but he had to admit that Charlie was good at putting him at ease. The only problem was that, now that the offer was there on the table, he didn’t even know where to _start_.

Graham had been begging his nephew to talk to him for months now, and he knew he could talk to Ashton and Luke or maybe even Calum if he really wanted to but… it hadn’t felt right and, strangely, this actually _did_.

Michael couldn’t even put into words how grateful he was for this.

“I just… I’m kind of struggling right now. I don’t know if you’d noticed,” the blue-haired boy said, trying for sarcastic but just coming out as exhausted instead. Michael forced a wry smile, taking a sip of his tea when Charlie gave an unhappy nod.

“So… there’ve been kind of a number of things fucking my life up at the moment but I think I’ve narrowed them down into a pretty conclusive list now.” Charlie frowned at the self-deprecating tone Michael was speaking in and his face crumpled when the blue-haired boy began to count them off on his fingers. “I had to move out because my mum was beating the shit out of me; my uncle – who I live with now – keeps acting like I’m about to kill myself…” Michael faltered at the alarm he could see on Charlie’s face and hurried to placate him: “I’m _not_ by the way. Fucking hell, Charlie. I’d never… God, no.”

Michael didn’t know why he was telling Charlie these terrible truths when he couldn’t even speak to his best _friends_ about them but, god, now that he’d started he just couldn’t stop. It felt like the words had been boiling there under his skin for so long; keeping them inside any longer was impossible now.

Charlie settled back on the sofa but his eyes were deeply unhappy as they traced Michael’s face. The black-haired boy had gone quite pale now and he looked faintly sick.

“I’m sorry your mum hurt you,” he said softly, his voice thick with pain. “You don’t deserve that, man.”

“No one does,” Michael whispered, thinking of Luke’s injuries and everything he’d heard about the blond boy’s father. Charlie nodded in agreement but he stayed quiet, still watching the taller boy expectantly. Apparently he could tell that the other boy had more to get off his chest and Michael appreciated it _so_ much. He appreciated **Charlie**.

“My OCD is really bad now too,” Michael continued but he was speaking more softly now, his voice shaky and weak like the words were strange to hear out loud. “I can’t leave the house until everything’s perfect – until I feel clean and… and everything is where it’s _supposed_ to be except… it never feels like it’s right. There’s always _something_ I need to fix but… but then I wash my hands too much and they bleed, and then that’s even _worse_ or… or I stay up tidying my room and I don’t sleep all night, and then I’m too tired to go to school and I’m gonna fuck up all my exams probably, and I know my uncle is trying so hard to understand but he doesn’t deserve to put up with my shit, Charlie! No one does! It’s no wonder Calum doesn’t love me! It’s no w-wonder my mum fucking hates me!” His voice cracked there and the tears were burning hot in his eyes now. His chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

“I’m a fucking _mess_ ,” Michael gasped out and he was half-blind with tears now. “I’m a mess and I can’t fix it! I’ve tried and tried but nothing I ever do is _enough_!”

He fell abruptly silent as he recalled the last time he’d felt this bad; that night when he’d fallen apart on the bathroom floor in Graham’s arms after what had happened to Ashton behind the nightclub. The panic was fainter this time – more a memory of the feeling than the fiery fear of it itself – but it was still enough to make his breath catch painfully in his lungs and Michael didn’t know he was crying until Charlie’s arms had wrapped around his waist, tightly enough that they kept him from falling apart.

Charlie shushed him softly as he rocked him, one of his hands rising to card gently through the taller boy’s hair as Michael sobbed into his neck. Charlie’s skin smelt strangely familiar and it took Michael a moment to remember that night at the club in the bathroom stall but… it sort of felt like something that had happened to someone else now. Michael felt so old and Charlie was comforting him now, and they both remembered the horrible words the ex-football player had spat that day in the changing rooms but it didn’t hurt anymore.

Michael was too tired to care anymore and he figured that maybe Charlie had changed a _lot_.

Maybe they both had.

“I’m sorry,” Michael breathed once his frantically-pounding heart had calmed a little in his chest. Charlie’s arms were no longer encircling him but he was still sitting warm beside the taller boy, their thighs pressed together as they exhaled quietly in the otherwise silent room. Charlie’s eyes were wet with tears when Michael chanced a glance over and his throat thickened although he fought against it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Charlie said in a quiet, hard little voice, his dark eyes overflowing now although he would undoubtedly deny it if Michael brought it up. “You’ve had a shit hand dealt to you and now you’re dealing with it the best ways you know how. You don’t have anything to apologise for, Mike.”

“Thank you,” Michael croaked, tugging his sleeve down over his hand and drying his eyes with it. He wished he’d brought a coat with him. He wished he didn’t feel so broken inside. “Thank you for… for being there. I haven’t really said that to anyone else.”

“I’d kind of guessed,” Charlie said mildly but the tiny smile on his face mirrored the one on Michael’s and the taller boy felt lighter because of it. “Your tea cold now?”

Michael tried a sip and grimaced, flushing guiltily. “Yeah, kind of,” he murmured and Charlie’s smile softened as he took the mug from the taller boy carefully before setting it down on the coffee table.

“Doesn’t really matter anyway,” he said softly but he was taking in the gentle shudders running through Michael’s slumped frame with worried eyes. He dug a scrap of paper – possibly a receipt – out of his pocket and found a biro on the table before quickly scribbling something on it. “This is my number,” he explained needlessly. “Just… you can always talk to me if you want, yeah? I’m never gonna judge you for it.”

“Thank you,” Michael said softly, reaching out warily and swallowing past the revulsion he could feel when his fingers curled hesitantly around the paper. “You’re… you’re not actually a bad guy, Charlie. You know that?”

“It _has_ been said.” Charlie smirked a tiny bit but his eyes stayed soft and he swallowed audibly past the lump rising in his throat. “Thank you for trusting me with that, Mike. It meant a lot. Distracted me from worrying about my own shit.”

Michael bit his bottom lip uneasily, shooting the smaller boy a worried look.

“What’s worrying you?” he asked, glancing towards the clock and guessing that Charlie probably only had a few minutes left of his break. “You wanna talk about it?”

“It’s nothing really,” Charlie said dismissively but the gratitude was obvious in his eyes. “I’ve just been thinking a lot recently about what I’m going to do after our exams are over, y’know? Like, I want to go to university and it’s so _soon_ now. Worrying about it is keeping me up at night.”

Michael felt a flutter of fear as he processed that though because… fuck, he hadn’t even _considered_ what he was going to do for the rest of his life. He’d always convinced himself he was going to be a musician before – that their band was actually going to work out – but… but now Michael thought it was almost laughable.

His life was going down the drain and he wasn’t even _trying_ to stop it now.

He really _was_ as much of a mess as his mum had always said.

The tears resumed falling without him even noticing and Charlie sighed quietly, not like he was exasperated but like it made him _sad_ to see the taller boy in such a state. He squeezed Michael gently on the shoulder through the hoodie he was still draped in even now and, when Michael gazed up at him wordlessly, Charlie gave him a tiny smile.

“You just wait here for me, man, okay?” he suggested gently. “I’m just going to let Vanessa know that I’ll be a bit longer, yeah? I’m gonna walk you home.” When Michael opened his mouth weakly to protest, Charlie just rolled his eyes fondly. “No arguments, Clifford,” he said sternly.

Michael ducked his head, embarrassed but more than a little bit grateful. He still felt safe with Charlie and the smaller boy’s number was tucked away safely in his pocket now, and this didn’t feel as final as it might have done. Michael thought he might be glad of that.

Charlie reappeared in the doorway a few moments later, rubbing his bare arm distractedly as he waited for Michael to get to his feet. The taller boy tried to give him the hoodie back but Charlie wouldn’t hear of it, dancing out of the way in an impressive display of footwork that showed why he’d been so good at football. It made Michael huff out a grudging laugh and Charlie looked proud of himself when Michael shakily zipped up the jacket.

“C’mon, man,” the black-haired boy said softly, indicating the hallway he had entered earlier as Michael unwillingly toed his trainers back on. “Back door’s this way. Easier than walking past all the customers, yeah?”

“You mean when I look like I’ve been crying?” Michael teased but he was more grateful than he could put into words. “Yeah, I reckon that’s a better idea.”

He pulled Charlie into a hug once they emerged into the dark alley outside and the smaller boy stiffened for a moment before he relaxed into it, patting Michael comfortingly on the back. Charlie looked more emotional than the taller boy had ever seen him and Michael didn’t understand why until Charlie quietly admitted: “You helped me realise who I was. I can never thank you enough for that.”

“You’re talking crap,” Michael said gruffly but he sounded a lot fonder than he’d intended and Charlie’s smile stayed on his face. “I’m sure you would’ve worked it out on your own.”

“Yeah, probably,” Charlie said, shrugging. “But you helped me accept it. You never seemed to give a fuck what people thought of you and… I don’t know. I guess I realised that that was actually _possible_.”

“Fat lot of good it did me,” Michael muttered and Charlie’s smile faded when he saw the tears falling down the taller boy’s overheated cheeks again. Charlie thumbed one of them gently away and Michael slumped as his forehead fell to rest on the other boy’s shoulder.

“It’ll all work out, Mike,” Charlie promised softly. “Let’s get you home now though, okay? It’s too cold for you to just be standing out here like this.”

“You’re only wearing a _t-shirt_ ,” Michael pointed out tearfully but Charlie just smiled.

“I know, Mike. But I don’t mind. I promise.”

Charlie was being so much kinder than Michael was used to and his shoulders slumped like someone was letting the air out of him when Charlie’s arm wrapped gently around his waist. The night was cold and inky black overhead now, and Michael was grateful to lean against Charlie… to share some of the crushing weight for a moment.

The walk back to Graham’s was short enough and the pair of them sank into a comfortable quiet as they walked, still clinging to each other because Charlie seemed to realise that he was the only one keeping the taller boy upright. Michael’s head fell to rest on Charlie’s shoulder when they were almost home and he felt smaller than he had done in a long time… even more vulnerable than he had done that day on the bed with Calum when the blue-haired boy had finally broken down into frightened tears.

Michael’s legs gave way beneath him and Charlie held him closer as the pair of them sank down onto the kerb. Michael was shaking a little bit, his long legs sprawled out onto the damp tarmac of the road as Charlie’s arm slipped back around his shoulders again. The black-haired boy was warm and comforting, and Michael couldn’t stop himself from crying then.

He was so scared and he was in so much pain, and it felt like all of the tears he had fought back were escaping him now, pouring down his cheeks unendingly. He was sorry Charlie had to see him in this state but he was glad he wasn’t alone. He just wished he didn’t _ache_ so much.

“I love Calum so much it hurts,” Michael sobbed and Charlie’s eyes were wet with tears when he pressed a chaste kiss to Michael’s blue hair.

“I know you do, Mike,” he whispered, rubbing Michael’s shoulder reassuringly through the hoodie he had lent him as he pulled the taller boy into a tighter hug. “I know you do but… it will be okay in the end, man. You just have to believe it. You’ve got to keep _hoping_ , yeah? There could be so much good in your life if you just keep fighting for it.” Charlie dropped another kiss onto his head and Michael wrinkled his nose, burying his faint watery smile in the other boy’s broad shoulder. “Don’t give up.”

Michael let the words sink in as he sat huddled up there and he felt them settle in his bones as he finally dragged his gaze to Charlie’s face. The blue-haired boy’s eyelashes were spiky with tears but… but he was _trying_ to hold himself together.

Charlie deserved that much.

Michael did too maybe.

“You go inside now, okay?” the black-haired boy prompted gently. “And keep the hoodie. It looks better on you anyway.” The sleeves were falling down past his sore knuckles and Michael’s hands were shaking but he tried to hide how raw he felt when he pulled the smaller boy into a gentle hug, his arms looped loosely around Charlie’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Michael murmured, pressing a brief kiss to Charlie’s cheek before he drifted back towards the house. The golden light from the porch was spilling out into the night and opening the door with his hand inside the too-long sleeve of the jacket was easier than he’d hoped.

Michael hesitated in the doorway, turning back towards the other boy and frowning when he could barely see him in the darkness. The light behind Michael was too bright.

Graham’s car was parked in the driveway and he could hear the dim sounds of his uncle showering upstairs. Michael locked the front door behind him, felt the skin of his hands itching when he turned the key in the lock and lined his trainers up neatly in the hallway. His feet felt heavier than ever as he dragged himself upstairs and he already missed Charlie’s surprisingly calming influence. He felt unsettled and panicky without it.

Michael felt about a hundred years old as he finally slumped face-down onto his bed and he could feel the sadness rising inside him like a wave.

Lying alone like this in the darkness, Michael wasn’t sure he believed Charlie’s comforting words anymore because… maybe hoping _was_ the only way to get through this but Michael didn’t think that was possible for him anymore.

He felt like he was right out of hope now and, no matter how hard he tried, things never got any better.

Everything was still falling to pieces.

Michael felt like he was never going to be okay again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3
> 
> Also... spoiler alert... the next **big** Thing should happen in Chapter 100 if everything goes to plan.... so just a warning for that. :P


	96. Over And Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _Calum tried harder to make himself look happy but, when Luke looked up at him suddenly and the cheerful expression on his face faltered just a little, Calum wondered if he’d managed it at all._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been writing so much lately and I can’t stop (although this chapter took me like two days because I’m so, _so_ tired)!!! It’s way angstier than planned but I don’t hate it.  
>  Also if anyone can find the Hayley Kiyoko reference in this chapter then I’ll bake you cookies.  
> You get bonus cookies if you find the “Sing” reference because I went to see that film the other day and it was ADORABLE. (If you want to cry over Johnny the gorilla and his dad, message me on tumblr, I’m not even kidding).

**_My head's under water,_ **

**_But I'm breathing fine._ **

**_You're crazy and I'm out of my mind._ **

_\- All Of Me, John Legend_

 

Luke looked so much better when Calum finally saw him again.

While the dark-haired boy had seen Ashton around school - although nowhere near as frequently as before, since Ashton was only attending half of the time as he recovered - Calum hadn’t had the chance to talk to Luke properly in _months_. He felt terrible about it too; he’d missed the blond boy so, _so_ much but Calum found it too difficult to let himself get close to the people he cared about now.

He’d began pushing Mali away months ago - forcing himself to stop relying on her so much because that made her absence hurt a little less - and he supposed it only made sense that he’d tried to push his best friends away too. It was a shitty coping mechanism in an effort to lessen the pain he was feeling but it was the only one he had.

Calum didn’t think he’d be able to carry on without it.

That wasn’t what today was about though. This was about _healing_ instead - at least for Luke.

It was a warm, bright Saturday morning and Calum tried to inject some fake optimism into his forced smile as he walked down the promenade where the pair of them had agreed to meet.

He could see the blond boy waiting for him at the far end, one arm curled loosely around the metal railing as he peered down at the sandy stretch of beach below. The sea was glittering in the sunlight and Calum could see the gentle curve of Luke’s cheek as he gazed down into the water, like he was _smiling_ almost. Calum tried harder to make himself look happy but, when Luke looked up at him suddenly and the cheerful expression on his face faltered just a little, Calum wondered if he’d managed it at all.

“Hey, Cal,” Luke greeted him when he was close enough, raising his hand in an awkward little wave before he suddenly seemed to feel silly and stopped. He went bright red and shuffled his feet nervously, and Calum couldn’t stop the dimples from creasing his cheeks as he smiled at him. Luke was so fucking sweet sometimes and it was ridiculously endearing.

“Hey, Lukey,” Calum grinned, bumping his shoulder lightly against the blond boy’s. “How are you doing? How’s Ash?”

“We’re good!” Luke said happily, still a little pink-cheeked although he seemed more comfortable as he fell into step beside Calum. “Ash is out shopping with Sharon this morning. She said his school trousers don’t fit and that it’s an ‘absolute disaster’... so yeah, I imagine he’ll be out with her for most of the day. Poor Ashton.” Luke’s eyes glittered as he spoke though and Calum could see how much the blond boy loved his aunt; he was _glad_ of it. Luke deserved to be happy more than almost anyone. He deserved a family who took care of him; who _loved_ him.

“I’m really glad you guys are doing better then,” Calum said sincerely, his chocolate brown eyes crinkling when he saw Luke biting his lip-ring as he tried (and failed) to suppress his smile.

“Thank you, Cal,” the blond boy said softly but Calum barely heard him because, even now when he was with one of his best friends, the darkness inside still threatened to overwhelm him, like it couldn’t _stand_ him being happy for even a few moments. The older boy fought to ignore it though; fought against the twisting of his stomach and the vicious, intrusive thoughts because Luke was in front of him now, shining golden in the sun, and Calum didn’t want to waste the time they had together.

“What did you want to do this morning?” Luke asked excitedly. “Because I wouldn’t mind picking up some new plectrums from the music shop and I’m kind of hungry too so - Oh… Nevermind.” He went red and Calum looked up at him swiftly, swallowing past the tightening in his throat when he saw Luke frowning down at the floor guiltily. They both stopped walking.

“What’s wrong, Luke?” Calum asked quietly, trying to ignore how fast his heart was racing in his chest. He reached out surreptitiously to grip the railing they were still walking beside and he tightened his fingers around the cold metal, struggling to fight the dizziness. For just a moment, with the metal in his hand and his eyes squeezed shut, it felt like he was back on the bridge again. Calum’s heart lurched in his chest.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Luke said softly. “I just… I’m not really that hungry anymore. We don’t need to go get food or whatever. We can just do something else.”

Calum’s heart hurt even worse now because… fuck, how much had his friends even _guessed_ about him? Unless Ashton had told his boyfriend of course… but Luke was a good person - his fretting now only proved that - and Calum trusted the blond boy not to say anything without permission. Ashton must have come to that conclusion too and Calum felt a sudden rush of warmth for the pair of them.

He didn’t deserve friends like them and, selfishly, he hoped they never realised that. Sometimes they felt like the only things keeping him even remotely sane anymore.

“We can pick some food up before we go to the music shop,” Calum said in a voice of forced calm, glancing up at Luke and smiling faintly. “And then maybe we can just sit on the beach and talk or something. How does that sound?”

Luke smiled at him, his blue eyes almost _proud_ as he looked down at the dark-haired boy. Calum didn’t know what it meant but he couldn’t hold the younger boy’s gaze. Luke shone too bright and the light of him hurt Calum’s eyes sometimes. It made his heart feel too big for his ribcage.

“That sounds great,” the blond boy said softly. He snagged Calum’s hand thoughtlessly and he only stopped towing the older boy around like an overexcited puppy when they finally made it to the beach half an hour later. Luke had a paper bag of plectrums dangling from one of his hands now and a mostly-eaten sandwich in the other, and he looked quite content as the pair of them sank down onto the sun-warmed sand.

“Talk to me while I finish my sandwich,” Luke ordered, his voice slightly garbled because he hadn’t finished his last mouthful yet. It made Calum’s lips tug up into a weary smile. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Calum made a little spluttering sound before he could stop himself and Luke’s eyebrows rose although he was kind enough not to mention it. The dark-haired boy barely noticed though; he was too caught up in remembering the night before.

He’d met up with Michael who had been more desperate and tearful than Calum had ever seen him, mumbling something incoherent about Charlie and being ‘ _so damn scared right now_ ’, although the older boy had refused to elaborate as to why he felt that way.

There was a bruise sucked into Calum’s shoulder just beneath the neck of his shirt now and the memory of just what Calum had done to distract Michael from his anxiety was fresh in his mind; the weight of Michael’s cock on his tongue and the broken whines that had torn out of the older boy as Calum pressed his hips back down onto the mattress. It had been fumbling and awkward and _weird_ , and Michael had cried afterwards, just curling up there on the rumpled sheets until Calum crawled over to pull him into an awkward hug, with his swollen lips pressed to Michael’s bare milky shoulder and his hollow stomach twisting nervously inside him.

“Your face has gone all funny, Cal,” Luke murmured and Calum looked up at him jerkily, his brown eyes too bright, his bottom lip caught painfully between his teeth. His heart felt light and fluttery in his chest but it felt _bad_ almost… like Calum was barely holding on anymore.

“Well, at least I don’t have mayonnaise on my chin,” he countered shakily and Luke flushed scarlet, wiping his mouth clean with his sleeve as he smiled bashfully at the older boy. He mumbled something inappropriate about blowing Ashton and Calum laughed awkwardly, trying to forget the night before.

“Your face is doing that thing again,” Luke pointed out helpfully. Calum briefly considered kicking sand at him.

“I know,” he said once the urge had passed. “Say something funny to distract me.”

“Um… I sang the whole of Hero by Enrique Iglesias to Ashton this morning while he was in the shower?” Luke said hopefully. Calum snorted with laughter and the blond boy ploughed on, heartened now. “What else? Oh, I know! I walked in on Ashton sneezing uncontrollably the other day because my aunt let Shelly roll all over his pillow. It was hilarious. I laughed so much I got hiccups.”

Calum looked lost for a moment before he remembered that Shelly was Sharon’s gigantic ginger cat and that Ashton was allergic to them. Then his lips curved up into an unwilling smile and he laughed a little bit too.

“Poor Ash,” Calum muttered but Luke shook his head, looking a good deal calmer as he settled back more comfortably in the sand, crossing his legs at the ankles.

“He’s actually doing really good right now,” the blond boy said softly, closing his eyes for a moment as relief rippled over his pale face. “We had one bad night a little while back and… I don’t know.” Luke’s blue eyes looked a little haunted but his smile was real when he continued. “I won’t say what happened because I don’t think it needs to be shared but... I feel like maybe it needed to happen? Like maybe we _needed_ to hit rock bottom because then there’s only really one way left to go.”

“Up,” Calum said and Luke smiled, his blue eyes shining now as he nodded confirmation. Calum was glad Ashton had a boyfriend like Luke.

“Exactly, Cal,” the blond boy agreed, his face serious now. “No one can keep falling forever. That’s not how it works.”

Calum wasn’t sure they were talking about Ashton anymore but he didn’t like it; didn’t want to see the sympathy on Luke’s pale face that would almost inevitably be there. Calum thought he’d had enough sympathy to last him a lifetime.

The pair settled into a slightly strained silence as they sat there on the sand together, watching the tide roll out and leaving damp, unmarked sand behind. Back when Calum was only a little boy, he loved visiting the beach at this time of day. He liked being the first person to make footprints on the sand. (Privately, Calum didn’t think he’d be able to get up now and run across the sand even if he _wanted_ to. He felt too weak.)

A yawn escaped the older boy before he could stop himself and Calum groaned, clapping his hand over his mouth in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he muttered, catching Luke’s gaze and hanging his head tiredly. “That was rude of me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Luke reassured him. “You not get much sleep last night or something?”

Calum shrugged uncomfortably, his cheeks heating. He’d gone for a long walk after he’d stopped by Michael’s house, wandering through the dark streets for long enough that he didn’t recognise anything anymore. Only then did Calum turn round and make his slow way back home again. It hadn’t felt like he’d walked _nearly_ far enough.

“I just went for a walk last night,” Calum said with a jerky shrug. “Guess I just didn’t want to be at home all that much.”

“It’s that bad?” Luke asked, not doubtful but concerned… _caring_. Calum thought that made all the difference in the world.

“Kind of,” the dark-haired boy said quietly. “I mean… it’s not like what happened to _you_ \- well, not to _me_ anyway - but…” Calum’s voice trailed away because Luke was looking at him in alarm now, his blue eyes wide, his bag of plectrums discarded on the sand, utterly forgotten. His hand came to cover Calum’s and the dark-haired boy bristled a little bit, grabbing some sand in his fist and letting it trickle back down to distract himself.

“It’s just a lot sometimes,” he finished after a long moment. “It’s hard. But it will be okay. It could be a lot worse.”

“Cal, what the fuck?” Luke whispered, his face almost ashen now, like he could see the hairline fractures appearing in Calum’s forced calm. “You don’t have to make excuses for it. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay if you’re not. We’re not going to judge you for anything. Surely you know that by now.”

“Yeah, I… I guess I do.” Calum couldn’t look at him as he spoke, instead keeping his dark eyes fixed down on the grains of sand clinging to his fingertips as a light breeze tousled his thinning curls. “It’s just my dad,” Calum admitted after a long pause. “He hates me I think - the only thing he thinks I’ve done right is a nice imaginary girlfriend I made up for him - and my mum…” Calum faltered, shaking his head numbly as a tear rolled down his cheek. “She’s not doing good, Luke. Not good at all. That’s why Mali left I think… because maybe she thought it was going to happen to her too. Dad certainly got angry enough at her for it to make sense.”

“Well _that_ sounds awfully familiar,” Luke muttered but he looked shaken. “What… what do you mean your mum isn’t doing good though?” he added, glancing over at Calum with something like dread in his eyes now. Calum hated that the blond boy looked like he was going to cry. He hated himself even more though but that was nothing new.

Calum thought he probably always _would_.

“Dad keeps hurting her,” he whispered, fighting back the nausea he could feel as he remembered what her face had looked like that night in the kitchen; remembered the cuts and bruises, and the way her expression crumpled when her bruised ribs ached whenever she moved. Calum wanted to cry but he wanted to hurt David more, over and over again until he couldn’t touch his wife anymore… until he finally left them alone.

“Calum, _no_ ,” Luke breathed, his pained eyes brimming with tears as he processed that. “Can’t you two get out? Can’t you report him or -”

“She won’t do it,” Calum said softly. “She thinks she has to do everything he says… said she wouldn’t leave me here and that she thinks he doesn’t mean to anyway.” He choked down a sob but his eyes were burning when Luke squeezed his hand tightly. “I tried to tell her that that doesn’t make it okay but… but she won’t listen.”

Luke’s arms wrapped warmly around the smaller boy’s back and Calum shuddered on a sob.

“I’m scared he’s going to kill her one day, Luke,” the dark-haired boy admitted and he hadn’t realised he was afraid of that until he said it. “I don’t think he’d mean to but I think he’ll go too far one day and… and then I’ll have lost her and it will be too late for me to help her.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about this,” Luke said, his expression downcast even as his eyelashes grew spikier with tears. “It isn’t your job to take care of your parents.”

“But she’s my mum,” Calum said helplessly, curling his hand into a fist beneath the sand and frowning when he felt a pebble. “She loves me and I love her, and I’m all she has left now… Mali’s _gone_ , Luke. She’s not coming back. I’m the only one mum has anymore.”

The truth of that statement shook him to the core and Calum gritted his teeth, hating that he could still feel the tears prickling in his eyes even now as he took the pebble into his palm, testing its weight for a moment before he brought his arm back, launching it into the sea.

He tried to make it skip on the surface of the water like he’d been able to do back when he was just a little kid. The pebble sank though, the ripples disappearing the moment another wave rolled in, and Calum felt almost like they were washing over his head as the air in his lungs turned to dust. It felt like there was nothing he could do to make things better anymore.

Maybe he was just better off gone.

“Calum?” Luke whispered and his blue eyes were so unbearably sad when he took in the tear-tracks on the older boy’s face that Calum could hardly stand to look at him. His anxiety made his ribs feel like they were cutting into his lungs and his fingers itched for a cigarette. Calum hated this so much.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, feeling a distinct tearing sensation in his chest when he saw Luke brushing a tear away unashamedly. “I didn’t mean to ruin things. We were supposed to be having a nice day.”

“We _are_ having a nice day,” Luke said determinedly. “We talked about our shitty excuses for fathers and it reminded me of something that Sharon said once. She’s my dad’s sister - did you know that?” the blond boy asked and Calum shrugged, simply watching his best friend curiously.

“Well, her and Andrew weren’t raised in the best environment,” Luke said carefully, seemingly weighing each word up before he said it. “She told me she knew he wasn’t a good person even back when they were kids and she saw how he treated other people - how he treated _her_ \- and that was why she decided never to have kids. Because she was scared she’d end up like him… like my grandparents.”

“There’s a poem about that,” Calum said out of nowhere, remembering something Mali had shown him one evening after it had come up in a book she was reading. “‘ _They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to but they do. They fill you with the faults they had and add some extra, just for you._ ’ It’s called This Be The Verse.”

“I think I’ve seen that somewhere before actually,” Luke said quietly. “It’s by Larkin, isn’t it?” When Calum nodded silently, Luke bit his bottom lip. “I thought there was more than that.”

“There is,” Calum said quietly. “There’s another two verses. The middle one doesn’t really bother me that much but the last one always gets to me. Do you remember it?”

“Not really,” Luke admitted but he looked intrigued now. “I’m guessing you do though?” Calum’s cheeks heated a little but he nodded anyway.

“‘ _Man hands on misery to man. It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, and don’t have any kids yourself._ ’” Calum shivered despite the warmth of the day, wrapping his arms tightly around himself like the heat of the sun wasn’t touching him anymore.

“You’re nothing like your dad, Cal. You know that, right?” Luke’s soft words made him jump and Calum hated that he was fighting not to cry now. “Not being able to stop him from hurting your mum doesn’t make you a bad person,” the blond boy pointed out. “And, y’know, I might be wrong - it does _occasionally_ happen after all - but I sort of get the impression that maybe you’re scared you’re going to end up like him?”

When Calum simply gave a jerky shrug and squared his jaw against the tears rolling down his face, Luke’s pained expression became knowing, if slightly too understanding.

“I’m scared about that too,” Luke admitted, his voice soft like he was telling a secret. “Every day it frightens me. Every single time I get angry or I want to lash out or…” He shook himself, forcing the haunted look out of his eyes before he smiled wanly down at the sand. “I have Ash to convince me otherwise when I feel that way but… I don’t think you have anyone, Cal,” Luke said quietly. “So, y’know... I wondered if maybe that person could be me.”

Calum remembered that day in class for a moment, something that felt like a millennia ago now; he remembered thinking that if he ever had kids then he’d probably find a way to mess that up, and being scared that one day maybe he’d end up _just_ like his father.

Calum’s dark eyes were swimming with tears when Luke passed him another pebble wordlessly and, when Calum threw it, it seemed to bounce on the water before it sank out of sight.

He was kind of crying now but Luke was holding onto him so tightly and it meant so much. He’d never had anyone who understood him in quite the same way Luke did - maybe not even _Mali_.

Calum hoped the blond boy stuck around for a very long time… not that Calum was planning to do the same anymore.

Sometimes he didn’t even feel like he was going to survive another day.

“I love you, Luke,” Calum sobbed pitifully and the blond boy slipped his arm comfortingly around Calum’s shoulders, dropping a chaste kiss onto his head. The dark-haired boy’s heart ached painfully in his chest.

“I know you do, Cal,” Luke said softly, his voice sounding tired and old. Above them, the sun slipped behind a cloud. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so SO much for reading!!  
> I really can’t tell you how much it means to me but I’m going to keep trying! :)  
> I couldn’t resist adding some back story for Sharon :’) It felt so good to write about her again!  
> Can’t wait to hear what you think <3  
> Also you can read the Larkin poem here if you want: http://www.artofeurope.com/larkin/lar2.htm


	97. Not Gone Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“I’m worried,” Joy whispered. “I’m_ scared _. You’re fading away, Calum.”_  
>  _“I’m still here,” he countered and the words tasted like defeat in his mouth. “I’m not gone yet.”_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> I'm not sure how much I like this update but I did my best with it.  
> Big Things are happening so, _so_ soon and I can't wait for it honestly!!  
>  Fingers crossed you enjoy <3
> 
> There's a new character introduced this time...

**_Hey, what's up? It's been a while._ **

**_Talking 'bout it's not my style._ **

**_Thought I'd see what's up,_ **

**_While I'm lighting up._ **

**_It's cold-hearted, cold-hearted._ **

_\- Like I Would, Zayn Malik_

 

Joy was waiting for Calum when he got back home from the beach. The walk helped clear his head and the cigarette he smoked was even better which meant that Calum felt halfway _human_ by the time he finally unlocked the front door.

Joy appeared in the hallway as Calum was taking his shoes off and he stiffened without making a conscious effort to, keeping his dark eyes fixed on his laces as his heart pounded frantically in his chest. She made a pained noise when he bent down to stow them away because all of his vertebrae were visible through the back of his sweatshirt now, even if Calum _did_ only feel horribly fat.

“Please don’t run off again,” Joy murmured from behind him and the soft plaintive note in her voice sent guilt searing painfully through his hollow chest. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for _days_ but… you wouldn’t come near me.”

Calum shrugged jerkily, squaring his jaw against the panic he could feel. He hadn’t been alone with her since that night when he’d blurted out the truth about him and Michael - when she’d called him skin and bones, and the pain of it had almost torn him apart. He hadn’t been able to face her since and the only silver lining now was that her face looked less swollen; less painful.

“I’m not running anywhere,” Calum replied and he meant it to sound sullen but the words just sounded exhausted. He was too tired to argue now. He didn’t think he had any fight left in him.

“I just… didn’t get the chance to say something to you that I think I should have said a very long time ago,” she said quietly, one hand gripping the doorframe hard like she needed the support, her dark eyes gentle and painfully kind.

“What is it?” Calum asked and Joy reached out slowly, cupping his cheek in her palm and exhaling shakily when he didn’t pull away.

“I’m so proud of you, Calum,” she said quietly. “I’m proud of you for telling me how you feel about Michael and being so strong since Mali left. I’m proud of you for being so brave when your father behaves the way he does and… and for helping me when I’m not at my best…” Her free hand fluttered up towards her sore face and Calum’s eyes brimmed with tears but his exhaustion was washing over him like waves now. “I’m so proud of _you_ , Calum, but sometimes I don’t think I tell you enough. I think maybe I’m harder on you than I should be but… but that’s just because I know what a smart boy you are. I know you can do so well if you try but… I’m worried I let that cloud the way I treat you.”

“You used to tell me off if I crumpled my uniform up,” Calum whispered without meaning to as one of the tears slipped down his cheek. He gave a watery laugh despite himself as his mum’s words sank into his chest, burrowing deep and _staying_ there, a point of light against the darkness.

Joy tried to smile and a bead of blood welled up on her split lip but she wiped it away impatiently with a tissue she’d tucked into her sleeve, and her eyes remained soft as she carded her fingers gently through his dark curls.

“I don’t care about your uniform,” she said honestly, still smiling a tiny bit. “I care about **you** , love. I’m proud of you for being so brave. I know I don’t tell you that enough. You’re such a wonderful person, Calum. One day you’ll see it too.”

The wooden panels covering the floor felt smooth when Calum slid slowly down onto the floor, and he was too numb to cry now probably and his clothes were _definitely_ getting screwed up but Joy didn’t seem to care; she simply sat down too and wrapped her arm around him, holding him close as she stroked his hair. She kissed his forehead and wiped something damp away from his cheek.

“Everything will be okay in the end, baby,” she murmured and she sounded so much like Mali for a moment that Calum wanted to cry.

He loved her so much it hurt.

“Where’s dad?” Calum mumbled as Joy rocked him gently, holding him as close as he would allow as her fingers worked through the knots in his hair, easing out the tangles.

“He told me he was out on a work do which is the laziest lie I’ve ever heard,” she said quietly, her voice twisted with hurt. “I mean, it’s a _Saturday_. It’s like he doesn’t even care enough to hide her now -” Joy faltered abruptly but Calum had gone still against her as he processed those words.

“ _Her_?” he repeated and the frown was evident in his voice. “Who’s _her_ , mum?”

Joy shrugged uneasily, her tanned face distinctly unhappy when Calum glanced up at her out of the corner of his eye.

“I came home early from work a few weeks ago,” she said in a voice of forced calm. “He’s having an affair. I didn’t want to tell you because it didn’t seem fair to put that on you but you’re not a baby now. I need to remember that.”

“Mum, I’m so sorry,” Calum whispered, too stunned to process the hatred he could feel burning sickeningly in his stomach. “Are you okay?”

“I am, actually.” Joy let her shoulders drop in a lazy shrug. “If he’s sleeping with someone else then he’s not home. It gives me some time to…” Her voice trailed away but Calum knew what she meant and he thought he could see why she didn’t care anymore.

To be perfectly honest, Calum didn’t even want to think about David because that just reminded him of how badly his mum was hurting and… and it kind of reminded Calum of when he’d hit Michael too, even _though_ he’d been forgiven… reminded him of the crunch Charlie Barker’s nose had made when his fist connected with it.

“So,” Joy said suddenly, catching the dark-haired boy’s attention. “Are you and Michael -”

“Please don’t, mum,” Calum croaked helplessly, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around them. “We… It can’t work. It _doesn’t_ work. We’re too messed up for each other.” His voice sounded small and agonised, and Calum hated it so much. The sympathy on his mother’s face hurt to _look_ at.

“I’m sorry, love,” she said quietly and, despite looking like she wanted to say more, she respected her son’s wishes and Calum had never been more grateful. “Tell me about your morning. What have you been up to today?”

“I met up with my friend Luke,” Calum said after a long moment as his tight grip on his legs loosened a little. “He’s Ashton’s boyfriend,” the dark-haired boy added at Joy’s perplexed look and he relaxed visibly when he saw her nodding slowly, her expression remaining calm and interested. She didn’t look disgusted or angry and Calum’s relief was a tangible thing in the air between them. “He’s really lovely, mum. I think you’d like him. Mali used to teach him dance at school; he goes to Kings. He’s good at making me laugh even when I’m having a shitty time.”

“Don’t swear,” Joy chided but she was smiling when she gave him a gentle, reproving poke on the nose. “I’m glad you two are friends though. He sounds like a nice boy.”

“Yeah, he is,” Calum said with the faintest smile. “Ashton’s lucky to have him.”

The pair of them sat in comfortable silence for a little while, just holding each other loosely as Calum calmed and Joy relaxed. She glanced towards the clock and Calum struggled to suppress his sigh when she unwillingly got to her feet.

“I’m going to pop to the supermarket and pick up some things before you dad gets home,” she said. The _if_ was left unsaid. “Did you want to come with me? We could pick up some snacks you like or -”

“Mum,” Calum murmured and the tears in his voice were choking him now. “Please stop it.”

“I’m worried,” Joy whispered. “I’m _scared_. You’re fading away, Calum.”

“I’m still here,” he countered and the words tasted like defeat in his mouth. “I’m not gone yet.”

Her eyes tightened with pain but she took his hand when he extended it and her face crumpled at how easy it was to pull him to his feet. He stepped away from her swiftly once the dizziness in his head had abated a little but he found it hard to catch his breath again and Joy appeared to be on the brink of tears.

“Can I look into getting some help for you, love?” she asked carefully, biting her sore bottom lip lightly as she worried. “We don’t have to rush into anything but… I can’t just sit here watching when I know you’re struggling. It goes against everything I am, to ignore you when you’re hurting now.”

“I don’t care,” Calum muttered, turning away and beginning to slope up the stairs. He could feel her eyes fixed on his back. “I don’t think it matters anymore.”

He shut his bedroom door carefully behind him but it was several minutes before he heard the front door closing too, followed by the quiet noise of the engine as she drove away. Calum lay down on his bed, gazing up unseeingly at the ceiling until he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

It rubbed painfully at the cuts lining his thigh when he eased it out and a frown creased his tanned face when he saw that it was his sister. He hadn’t spoken to her in so long now because it just _hurt_ him but… god, he was so tired of avoiding her. He missed her so badly he ached.

“Hello,” he said weakly, his heart too big for his chest now. “How are you doing? It’s been ages.”

“It’s been over a month,” she said quietly. “I _miss_ you, squirt. What happened?”

“I just… didn’t have anything to say,” he muttered, making a decision in that moment that he would tell her nothing about him at all. Maybe being cold and distant would help him feel less like he was losing control. “There didn’t seem much point.”

“Oh, I… _Oh_.” She sounded hurt and Calum hated it; hated _himself_ for being the cause of the pain he could hear. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to - I mean, shall I _go_? Like, if you’re busy or -”

“Fuck, Mali,” Calum choked out and he couldn’t stand this anymore. “I’m never too busy for you. Never.” He wanted to say that he was a sorry excuse for a brother but… but then she’d ask him questions and Calum didn’t think he could stand prolonging this. It hurt too badly and reminded him of why he’d been trying so hard to avoid these conversations.

“What’s going on, Calum?” Mali murmured and the dark-haired boy felt sick when she said his full name because that was something that proved _just_ how worried she was. The last time she’d called him that was when he’d fallen down the stairs back when he was about ten and hadn’t got up straight away; she’d panicked and screamed his name, and Calum felt the same way now almost.

He couldn’t believe how far he’d fallen.

“Nothing new,” Calum answered, far too late. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

“Squirt? I -” Mali broke off, sounding wrong-footed and upset now, and she was just about to speak again when, very faintly over the phone, Calum heard the doorbell ring. “Hang on,” Mali muttered and then he heard a rustling sound and, quite suddenly, someone else was holding the phone.

“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice asked, their accent distinctly English as they spoke in a slow drawl. “This is Calum?”

“Um… Yeah. Yes. Hello.” Calum cringed at how awkward he sounded but there was a rumble of soft laughter over the phone that went a small way to putting him at ease. “Am I talking to the famous Harry I’ve heard so much about?”

“The one and only,” the older man said but he seemed to be smiling. “Mali’s just gone to answer the door,” he added needlessly. “I think our shopping has been delivered so she might be a little while.”

“That’s alright,” Calum mumbled, shrugging uncomfortably. “I can just go and… she can call me later or something.”

“And you’ll actually answer then?” Harry asked pointedly, still sounding friendly which seemed to be an impressive feat in Calum’s opinion because he felt about two inches tall now. “I hate seeing her upset, man,” Harry said softly. “I get that your family are going through a tough patch right now but… she’s everything to me, yeah? I just want her to be alright.”

“I want that too,” Calum said softly, hating the fact that he _couldn’t_ hate Harry. It was only too obvious how much the older man cared about the dark-haired boy’s sister; how could Calum resent him for that? “That’s why I haven’t been talking to her so much,” he added quietly. “I haven’t got anything nice to tell her so what’s the point?”

“Oh dear,” Harry murmured, his voice unhappy and just a little too sympathetic for comfort. “I guess that makes sense but… I know she’d rather talk to you about something sad than nothing at all, right? And she meant it when she said she’d come home if you needed her to.” Harry sighed softly over the crackling of static. “I’d come with her,” he added out of nowhere. “I’m not sure she realises that but… but I would. I really want her to be happy, man.”

“I can tell,” Calum said and the lump in his throat hurt to breathe past, let alone talk. “I’m glad she has you. She deserves someone who’ll take care of her.”

“So do you,” Harry said. “So does _everyone_.”

Calum tried not to focus on that part because he was absolutely _not_ going to cry over the phone to his sister’s boyfriend who was a complete stranger to him. There wasn’t a chance in hell of that.

Calum was happy for Mali though and he hoped she was happy too. That was all that mattered really.

He hoped that at least _one_ of them would make it out of this happy and safe, and **alive**.

Thinking about everything that had led up to this point, Calum wasn’t rating his own chances anymore.

Not even a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Harry was surprisingly difficult to write and Joy giving me feels came out of nowhere but I hope I did it justice!  
> There's a new character next time too! (New as in they've been mentioned but I haven't written them properly yet... so I'm very excited! I wonder if you'll guess who it is?)  
> Please let me know what you think <3
> 
> Also I'm still aiming to write an update most days but I'm so tired at the moment and work is going to be really difficult this week so it might be every other day instead. I'll do my best though and I'll try to keep you guys updated on twitter/tumblr if it looks like I won't be updating.
> 
> Tumblr: merlypops (merlypops.tumblr.com)  
> Twitter: @merlypops96


	98. Unsullied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“I know you’re hurting really bad over this and I’m sorry I can’t help you,” Dan said gently. “But… you know I’ll always be here for you, right? So even if you tell him to fuck off tomorrow or… or you end up getting_ married _or something even more dumb… well, I’m still gonna be here making you play video games with me, okay?” Dan smiled but it was the saddest Michael had ever seen him look. “You’ve got me no matter what, Mike. I promise.”_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so much less angsty than I’d planned which surprises me a lot since I was definitely not in a good mood before I started writing this. It cheered me up though and I’ve wanted to use these lyrics for a very long time so I’m glad I finally got the chance.  
> I hope you guys will enjoy this! <3
> 
> P.S. The events mentioned at the beginning of this chapter take place around Chapter 128 in Maelstrom, just in case you wanted to get an idea of whereabouts we're up to in the story.

**_It started out with a kiss._ **

**_How did it end up like this?_ **

**_It was only a kiss._ **

_\- Mr. Brightside, The Killers_

 

Michael had a difficult morning on Sunday.

He met up with his three best friends at Sharon’s bungalow, where Luke and Ashton were living now. They were meant to just talk and maybe grab some food afterwards but it had all gone to hell, and Michael wondered why that even surprised him anymore. They were three of the people he loved most in the world, and Michael couldn’t even sit in a room and be civil with them anymore.

Their meet-up had ended about five minutes after it started and Michael was sad about that. Ashton had told them that he’d quit his job at the garage and Luke had been holding his boyfriend so lovingly, and Michael had got the impression that something big had happened between the pair of them because Ashton’s eyes shone brighter now and Luke finally looked peaceful.

Michael wished he could be happy for them but he was still too caught up in what had happened with Calum on Friday night.

The blue-haired boy hadn’t gone to school that day, too upset after his evening with Charlie on Thursday. Michael hadn’t been able to shake the fear that everything was about to fall apart. The dread had settled in Michael’s lungs like smoke and only Calum turning up at the house after a frantic text from the older boy had been enough to set Michael’s frayed nerves at ease. He wished it was that easy to switch off his anxiety normally but he figured Calum had _always_ been good at distracting him and this occasion had been no different.

He could still remember the hot slide of Calum’s tongue and the deliciously damp heat as he worked the older boy’s cock in his mouth; the way Michael felt like he’d been scraped raw as Calum hollowed his cheeks around him, pinning Michael’s hips to the bed when the blue-haired boy jerked up in shock, broken moans pouring freely from him. Calum had taken him into his throat easier than anyone Michael had ever been with before and even remembering it now sent a thrill of _something_ burning through Michael; the memory of Calum’s dark curls twisted in his fingers, the tears burning down his overheated cheeks afterwards as he panted tearfully into Calum’s neck, sucking a bruise into the younger boy’s shoulder where his shirt had slipped aside.

Michael still couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head and it was Sunday afternoon now. He was on his way to his friend Dan’s house since there hadn’t seemed to be much point in sticking around with Luke and Ashton after Calum had ran off, and Michael was trying not to feel bad about that. The pair of them could probably use some alone time though and if Michael heard Luke talking about how well their YouTube channel was still doing even now then he was probably going to scream.

Couldn’t anyone see that it was impossible for Michael to enjoy playing music without Calum there – happy and _whole_ – beside him?

The bus rocked as it turned a corner and Michael swayed in his seat, keeping his hands carefully clasped together so that he didn’t touch anything. His skin crawled with the need to wash his hands and, more than anything, he wished he’d been able to drive over to Dan’s; his uncle had needed the car for work though and Michael wasn’t about to make him walk. Even _he_ wasn’t that selfish.

Dan lived out in Fairfield but the bus journey wasn’t too long and Michael liked it there. It was a nice enough place, and the neighbourhood was tidy and clean. It always seemed quiet and Dan’s house wasn’t far from the bus stop which was definitely a bonus; Michael would probably _never_ enjoy exercise.

He walked along the pavement slowly once he got off the bus, relishing breathing in air that didn’t taste stale and recycled as he followed the familiar streets to his friend’s house. They’d been playing games together for years now – ever since they’d got talking on Reddit at the age of eleven and realised they had a lot in common – and Michael was glad that his friendship with Dan had remained unsullied through all of this.

The last thing he wanted was to lose him too.

Dan opened the door almost a minute after Michael had used his elbow to awkwardly ring the doorbell, same as usual. The gangly boy was wearing a Welcome To Night Vale t-shirt and comic strip boxers, and Michael snorted when he noticed them.

“You’re lucky it was me at the door,” he pointed out and Dan simply grinned at him, his ginger hair mussed as he winked behind his thick glasses.

“Nah, give the postman a treat, wouldn’t it, mate?” Dan said cheerfully. Michael laughed despite himself. God, he'd missed him so much.

“You talk so much crap,” he said but the fondness in his tone was undeniable. “Let me in, you freckly git. It’s boiling out here and I’m drowning in sweat. What if my t-shirt disintegrates?”

“Oh, keep talking to me like that, daddy, _please_ ,” the taller boy countered in a ridiculously high voice although he somewhat ruined the effect by wrinkling his nose in disgust at the smaller boy’s words. Michael choked, laughing so hard he was pretty sure he could feel himself developing abs as Dan tugged him lightly into the house, shutting the door behind them.

“You made me choke!” Michael admonished but he hurriedly continued when Dan’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Don’t you dare!” the blue-haired boy said desperately. “Don’t even make that joke! You don't even make _sense_!”

“Come upstairs then, mate,” Dan grinned, slinging an arm casually around Michael’s waist as he towed him along. “And _this_ week in the mini fridge we have – wait for it – Smirnoff Ice or Pepsi for those of fainter hearts! Tune in next week for an exciting _new_ assortment of cold drinks!”

“You’re so weird,” Michael said but he was smiling stupidly wide as he followed the taller boy into his dark bedroom, flopping down onto one of the beanbags that had been placed strategically on the carpet in front of the flat-screen television. “Can I have a Pepsi please? I’m clearly faint-hearted today,” he said, watching as Dan went to grab them both cans. After a slight hesitation, Michael allowed a soft smile to grace his lips. “I missed you, man,” he said quietly.

“Missed you too,” Dan admitted and for once he didn’t take the piss which must have meant he really _had_ missed his friend. Michael felt guilty. “It’s been way too long. What do you want to play today?”

“Something that doesn’t require much thinking,” Michael replied, briefly remembering Friday night and shivering despite himself as his cheeks heated a little. Dan shot him a slightly knowing look but he was kind enough not to call him out on it.

“How about Mario Kart?” the taller boy suggested and Michael smiled in relief.

“Only if I can be Princess Peach,” he said, utterly unashamed. Dan grinned and, when he nodded, Michael felt a broad smile spreading across his cherry-red lips. “I’m gonna kick your arse on Rainbow Road, man,” he declared, making Dan laugh.

“In your dreams, Clifford.”

The pair of them sat there in the dark for three races before they broke the quiet litany of insults they had been trading to start an actual conversation. Dan hit pause on the game and Michael flopped back on the beanbag, gazing up at the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered across his friend’s ceiling.

“How have I never noticed all of those stars before?” he asked and the only sound for a long time was the noise of Dan opening his drink. It fizzed over the top and he sighed heavily, sucking his fingers clean and looking slightly morose as the blue-haired boy watched him quizzically.

“Becca didn’t like the dark,” Dan said after a slightly awkward pause. “I stuck them up there for her… although as for how you never noticed them? I actually have no idea. Don't you ever look up? That’s, like,  _worryingly_ unobservant, Mike. How do you not walk in front of cars every time you cross the road?”

“Rude,” Michael muttered but his smile was weak at best. He reached out to poke Dan’s bare thigh with his foot and the taller boy rolled his eyes, smiling faintly. “Sorry for bringing her up, man. You know I wouldn’t do that on purpose.”

“It’s alright,” Dan said with an awkward shrug, looking lost and surprisingly small for a moment. “It’s been a couple of months now… I should probably be over it by now. I know she is.”

“I don’t think there’s a time limit on these things,” Michael pointed out, setting his can down carefully on the floor and wincing when some of the drink got on his hand. It felt sticky and his skin itched unpleasantly, and Dan’s pale eyes were entirely too knowing when he saw Michael flexing his fingers uncomfortably. The taller boy tossed his friend a little bottle of anti-bacterial hand sanitiser that he’d bought for just such an occasion as this and Michael’s relief washed over him like cool water.

“I could kiss you,” he declared and Dan pretended to draw a cross in the air between them, cringing away.

“Don’t you dare, Clifford,” the taller boy teased. “You know I don’t swing that way.” His face softened though and he relaxed a little bit when Michael emptied some of the fruity-smelling liquid onto his hands with evident relief, rubbing it between his palms. “You okay there, mate?”

“I will be,” Michael murmured and a part of him _almost_ believed it now. Everything might still be falling apart but **Michael** wasn’t going to break. He was sure he couldn’t fall any further than he had right now and rock bottom seemed like a good foundation for building on. He figured he’d probably be alright in the end… and if he wasn’t then maybe the terrifying feeling of everything finally coming to a head wasn’t necessarily negative anymore. At least things weren’t being drawn out now.

Maybe it would all be over soon.

“You don’t look sure,” Dan pointed out quietly and Michael held his friend’s gaze for a long moment, taking in the light dancing in his blue eyes as he sat there in his over-sized t-shirt and boxers. Michael had spent hundreds of evenings like this and, quite suddenly, he felt a lump rising in his throat although he fought it down with everything he had, uncertain as to why he event felt _sad_.

“That’s because I’m not,” he said in a choked little voice and Dan’s forehead creased with worry, like maybe _he_ could feel the strange sense of finality saturating the air too.

“Is it Calum again?” Dan asked hesitantly. “Because I’ve said it before but… Mike, you know how much I hate it when you’re unhappy… and I don’t think he makes you happy anymore. Wouldn’t it be _easier_ to move on and find someone who’s actually going to treat you the way you deserve?”

“You never give him a chance,” Michael murmured, because it was easier to focus on that than the rest of the words out of his friend’s mouth. “Not one.”

“But that’s because he never gave you a chance either,” Dan said softly and Michael hated that his friend believed those words were the truth; hated that he’d never been brave enough to tell Dan about that day in the bathroom at school when Calum had finally confessed his feelings.

Michael felt pale as he drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them and Dan’s expression was distinctly unhappy as he dragged his beanbag closer, flopping down onto it with a quiet sigh so that his head rested on Michael’s shoulder.

“You’re really bad at keeping secrets; you know that, Clifford?” Dan asked mildly. Michael just shrugged jerkily so that the taller boy’s head slipped off his shoulder but Dan stayed close, taking the defensive gesture in stride. It would take a pricklier person than Michael Clifford to hurt Dan’s feelings.

“I know you love him, Mike,” Dan said plainly. “And I think he probably loves you too, under all that shit. You don’t owe him anything though and I feel like you kind of forget that sometimes. Just because you both feel a certain way… well, it doesn’t mean you’re obligated to run yourself into the ground worrying about him if he doesn’t care enough to tell you the truth. I don’t wanna see you get hurt worse, mate.”

“What do you mean?” Michael mumbled but his green eyes were damp now and he hated that he felt this vulnerable in a place he usually only felt relaxed in. Dan gave his knee a gentle squeeze and Michael sniffed as he fought to keep his tears from falling.

“I know you’re hurting really bad over this and I’m sorry I can’t help you,” Dan said gently. “But… you know I’ll always be here for you, right? So even if you tell him to fuck off tomorrow or… or you end up getting _married_ or something even more dumb… well, I’m still gonna be here making you play video games with me, okay?” Dan smiled but it was the saddest Michael had ever seen him look. “You’ve got me no matter what, Mike. I promise.”

“Dude, what the fuck? You just made me cry!” Michael gasped out but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad when he pulled Dan into a shaky hug, tucking his face away. His cheeks were flaming now because he felt like all he ever did was cry these days.

Dan just patted his back comfortingly and held him closer.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, Mike,” the taller boy said softly. “Unless you’re crying over me beating you at Mario Kart in which case: nothing is ever going to be okay again because, as you have now discovered, I am a vastly superior human being.”

“You _smell_ ,” Michael countered weakly, because he couldn’t think of another insult. Dan snorted.

“That’s because I haven’t showered since Friday.”

“Ew, gross! Get away from me!” Michael yelled but he was kind of laughing a little bit now, even as he yawned hugely when a wave of exhaustion rolled over him. He hadn’t slept properly in weeks – months if he was being honest with himself – and, quite suddenly, it all seemed to be catching up with him.

“I’m gonna drive you home,” Dan decided. “Dad’s taken mum on some sickeningly romantic date and she left her car here so she won’t miss it.”

“You’d leave the house for me? You'd put on _pants_?” Michael teased, clapping a hand over his heart. “Daniel, I’m touched.” He ducked the predictable blow Dan sent lightly at his head, aware that the taller boy hated being called his full name; said it reminded him of being at school. “I’d like that though,” Michael added and his expression was sincere now. “We can stop at that pizza place on the way by the promenade and I’ll treat you. Plus, if we do that then I can bring Graham home leftovers too so he’ll remember why he used to _like_ living with me.”

“Don’t talk crap, mate,” Dan chided but he looked fond as he sloped away to find clean sweatpants. “You know he loves living with you no matter what… although, to be fair, it’s hard to argue with free pizza. Good idea.” He looked proud when he’d pulled his trousers on and Michael smiled a little despite himself, glad that he’d found a friend he could be so comfortable with.

Dan was one of his favourite people in the world.

“C’mon then,” the taller boy grinned, bounding down the stairs as Michael followed him at a more sedate pace. “I know it’s only, like, five o’clock or something but I’m already starving. I need pepperoni pizza inside me!”

“Kinky,” Michael said because he couldn’t think of a better response. “I was thinking more ham and mushroom though. Maybe we’ll have to get two.”

“Maybe we will,” Dan said solemnly and Michael was still smiling faintly when he carried his leftovers into the house an hour later. The box of cold pizza was balanced on his arm as he fucked around trying to get the front door open without touching it too much but Graham came to his rescue, his hair damp from his shower and his green eyes tired after his shift. His pale face lit up at the sight of his nephew.

“Hey, Mikey. Wondered where you’d got to,” the nurse said. Michael ducked his head, smiling a little as he kicked his trainers off carefully. He’d stopped wearing his boots almost a fortnight before, deciding to sacrifice fashion with practicality because at least this way he didn’t have to keep touching his shoes whenever he wanted to take them off.

“I was at Dan’s place,” Michael said with a thin smile. “I come bearing gifts – namely, pizza.”

“My favourite kind of gift,” Graham said gravely but his lips were twitching and Michael’s relief was palpable when Graham relieved him of the box, carrying it into the kitchen to grab some plates. “Do you want more food or are you done for now, Mike?” he called, presumably having noticed how much had already been eaten. Michael considered this as he followed his uncle out to pour them both glasses of water.

“I feel like I could probably be persuaded to eat more pizza, Gray,” Michael said in a mock-serious tone and his uncle looked so relieved to see his nephew joking again that Michael’s heart felt too big for his chest. He felt safer with Graham than he did with anyone and he trusted his uncle more than he could ever put into words; he knew Graham would never lie to him and he was so grateful for that.

Michael forgot how destroyed he felt when Graham was with him like this.

They settled down on the sofa to watch the Sherlock films back-to-back while they ate their pizza and Michael felt calmer than he had done in a long time. He laughed at the scene where Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law lay on the floor of the carriage, and it took him a little while to notice that his uncle had dozed off beside him, warm and full of food.

Michael felt something undeniably fond flooding through him as he dragged the thick-knitted blanket off the back of the sofa, draping it over his uncle carefully. The blue-haired boy’s thoughts wandered once he settled down again and he thought it might be because he knew he was more alone now; he couldn’t focus on the film anymore.

Michael reached for the notepad on the table and forced himself to curl his fingers around the clear plastic of the biro, tangling an elastic band around his other hand once it became too difficult. He doodled at first, just trying to get the restlessness he could feel out somehow before, slowly but surely, the mindless swirls became a crude drawing of Calum’s face and words crawling across the page like spiders running through ink.

 

_**I got a long-term plan with short-term fixes,** _

_**And a wasted heart that just eclipses,** _

_**And I push my luck from trust to dust enough;** _

_**That's the story of another us.** _

 

The words spilt out of him easily and Michael felt a pang in his chest as the pen flew across the page. Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped relying on music to make him feel better and he missed it so much it burnt now, a real stinging pain that he couldn’t believe he’d never noticed before.

Most of all though, he missed playing music with Luke and Ashton, and with _Calum_. He missed their voices swelling to fill the garage and the sound of the chords mixing together so perfectly with the rhythm of Ashton’s drum kit. He missed singing with Luke and matching the power chords of his guitar to Calum’s bass and –

Fuck, he missed **Calum** , even though they saw each other every day; even though Calum sucked bruises into the older boy’s skin, and made him fall apart with his tongue and his fingers, and the soft yielding heat of his body wrapped tight around Michael.

Even then.

It felt like he was looking at Calum through fog now; like the younger boy was barely there at all, almost lost no matter how desperately the blue-haired boy tried to reach for him… but Michael thought he might be brave enough now – might _finally_ be ready to fight for Calum – and his heart was open, laid bare on the ground in front of him. He only hoped that Calum wouldn’t break it first.

The pen touched the paper again and, beside him, Graham stirred as he blinked himself awake. Michael didn’t look at him though, too focused on the words pouring out onto the paper as his thoughts untangled themselves for the first time in far too long.

 

_**One last ditch, a new beginning,** _

_**So take this heart, put yourself in it.** _

_**This surprise ending I'm depending on,** _

_**Could be the story of another us.** _

 

Graham handed him a tissue wordlessly and Michael tried to smile at his uncle but the tears were burning his eyes as he wiped them hastily away. Graham brushed a kiss over his forehead and rose silently, and Michael watched him go in confusion as his uncle disappeared from the room.

He dropped the notepad shakily onto the table and bit his lip hard, feeling lost and confused. His heart ached in his chest and he sort of wanted a hug but… but his uncle had left now and Michael was worried he’d upset him somehow because why _else_ would the nurse leave him?

Graham returned almost as soon as the thought crossed his nephew’s mind and Michael gave him a watery smile when Graham dropped a soft toy lion onto the blue-haired boy’s lap. Michael smiled past his tears, rubbing his thumb gently over Daniel’s mane as the whiskey-coloured eyes glinted up at him in the lamplight.

“Hug?” Graham checked hesitantly and Michael pressed his lips together hard, nodding as he burrowed into the older man’s side. Michael clutched Daniel to his chest, keeping his fingers locked around the toy so that he wouldn’t have to touch anything else, and Graham looked calmer as he wrapped his arm warmly around his nephew’s shoulders. The nurse pulled the blanket over them both with mild difficulty – Michael was sort of sitting on it – and the blue-haired boy’s knuckles might have been welling blood but he felt more _whole_ with his uncle close beside him.

Michael didn’t remember falling asleep but he woke up early the next morning, still lying sprawled on the sofa in Graham’s arms. The blue-haired boy felt achy but surprisingly well rested as he pushed himself into a sitting position. The soft lion toy was still tucked carefully into the crook of his arm.

Michael’s heart ached in his chest when he saw his uncle sleeping restlessly nearby, his head at an awkward angle like he’d fallen asleep looking after his nephew, regardless of his own discomfort.

The sudden rush of love Michael felt made him breathless and he covered Graham carefully back up with the blanket, snuggling back down beside him and sighing contentedly when Graham murmured his name as his arms slipped unconsciously around Michael’s shoulders.

In that moment, the blue-haired boy loved his uncle so much it hurt and, luckily, Graham loved him right back.

Michael thought he always would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed this and I'd love to hear what you thought <3
> 
> Also, what did you think of Dan? And how are you feeling about Charlie now?  
> I get so nervous introducing original characters to fics so I'd love to hear what you think of them <3  
> Thank you so much :)


	99. Over The Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _His heart felt like it was about to tear itself to pieces in his chest and, for one terrifying moment, Calum actually thought he was going to die._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys.  
> This chapter is not very nice at first (although I did put some fluffy smut at the end) but I want to make this story as real as possible and that means not skirting around the details. There are so many risks that might not become immediately apparent with regards to eating disorders and this update touches on one that is, unfortunately, something someone very close to me experienced.  
> I hope I managed to do it justice and I just wanted to give you the heads up that this is where everything starts to get dark - the upside is that this is also the last time the fic gets bad. The next few chapters are going to be _horrible_ but, once everything that is about to happen has been resolved, things are finally going to be okay again.  
>  We just have to get there first.
> 
> Trigger warning for heart attack.

**_I've got a tight grip on reality,_ **

**_But I can't let go of what's in front of me here._ **

**_I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up._ **

**_Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream._ **

_\- The Only Exception, Paramore_

 

There was a big football match coming up in a few weeks and Calum had possibly never dreaded something more. Even the training sessions were too much for him now but he knew he couldn’t afford to miss them. It didn’t matter that they sometimes made him feel like he couldn’t breathe properly for hours afterwards.

The only upside was that Ashton was back at school full-time now, and this relieved Calum both as a friend _and_ as team captain because it meant that they finally had their goalkeeper back. Ashton’s stand-in had sucked so, _so_ badly and the coach had been practically tearing his hair out as he’d watched his team crumble apart from the side-lines. Calum hoped they’d be able to bring it back now and actually win their upcoming game; otherwise he’d already decided that he would take himself off the team because there was no point in ruining his school’s chances of playing in the league.

Just because Calum was broken didn’t mean he should destroy things for everyone else too.

The negative thoughts were still spinning relentlessly around his head as he trudged out of school at the end of the day. It was damp and cold, and Calum was shivering as Michael appeared out of the rain beside him, his blue hair soaked against his forehead, his emerald eyes unhappy and hollow.

The weather took a turn for the worse as the droplets pounded relentlessly against the pavement and Calum began to feel dizzy with it, faint and nauseous as he dragged his feet. He was already falling behind the rest of the students who were flooding out of the school; most of them were running to cars due to the bad weather but Michael stuck with him, the hood of his jacket pulled up over his head as he watched the younger boy with concerned eyes. The dark circles under them looked like bruises and Calum wondered how much of it was his fault, at least until his heart gave a sudden, unpleasant clench in his chest and his feet faltered beneath him.

“Cal?” Michael asked blankly, his expression equal parts confused and exhausted as the younger boy stood there frozen in the rain. “Why’re you stopping? It’s pouring down out here. We need to go _home_.”

“Mike,” Calum tried to say except… he wasn’t sure the word had come out right. His heartbeat felt uneven in his chest and he could hear his pulse roaring in his ears. He felt like he was going to pass out and the bile was rising in his throat and… god, Calum couldn’t deny it anymore.

He was sick - he was really, _really_ fucking sick - and he knew he must look terrible because he could see it written in the horror etched across Michael’s empty face now; could feel it as his heart squeezed painfully in his chest, making the younger boy gasp raggedly as the pain spread through him, burning in his shoulders and neck.

His chest felt tighter than ever now and the awful light headedness he could feel made Calum feel so, _so_ sick as he swayed, his breath catching impossibly painfully in his lungs. Sweat had broken out on his forehead now and Calum was desperately clutching at Michael as tightly as he could but it wasn't enough to keep him from sinking down onto his knees as the rainwater soaked through his trousers. His heart felt like it was about to tear itself to pieces in his chest and, for one terrifying moment, Calum actually thought he was going to die.

“Oh my god,” Michael breathed, his skin as pale as bone now as he gripped Calum’s arms far too tightly, sinking down onto his knees too. There was dirty water soaking into his clothes but Michael didn’t even process it as he stared at the younger boy in shock, his expression utterly horrified. The blue-haired boy was panicking so much that his voice sounded _calm_ and that was when Calum realised how badly he was in trouble. “Do you need me to call you an ambulance? Can you - God, Calum, _please_. Tell me what to - I don’t know what to fucking _do_!”

“I’m okay,” Calum choked out and he almost laughed except there wasn’t enough breath in his aching lungs for that. He let his dizzy head fall forwards to rest against Michael’s shoulder instead and he inhaled shakily, breathing in the familiar and comforting smell - coconut shampoo, chocolate, coffee, laundry detergent, talcum powder - and it smelt like Calum’s childhood almost; like everything he’d ever loved wrapped up in a single person and Calum realised that, if he died right then, at least he was wrapped up in Michael’s arms.

That was probably more than he deserved.

“You’re not okay at all!” Michael cried in a voice that was several octaves higher than usual, like his stress and panic were combining to shred his nerves. “Calum, you just… I don’t even know _what_ you just did but it was fucking bad! It was really, _really_ fucking bad!”

“Mikey, please just… _please_ ,” Calum said imploringly, still breathless and shaky although he felt less like was about to faint now. His hands were trembling as he cupped the older boy’s face gently but Michael fell silent, gazing at the younger boy with agony plain on his face as his eyes brimmed with tears. Michael was still holding him, still gripping him so tightly that there would be bruises tomorrow probably; so tightly that no one could ever, _ever_ tear them apart -

Except each other.

They’d always been good at destroying each other.

A passer-by shot Calum a dirty look as they passed, giving him a wide berth as he slumped there in the rain, pale and gaunt. They muttered something that involved the word ‘junkie’ and Calum wondered if that was what he looked like now; so ragged and desperate for something that would end his pain for a few moments. The metaphor should _not_ have felt so appropriate to him.

Michael was white-faced with fury as he glared after the stranger but Calum couldn’t find the strength to care because Michael was still holding him close to his chest and the pain was lessening a little now.

“I think I’m okay,” Calum breathed and… he didn’t know if he was lying or not. He was still shivery and trembling, and more dizzy than he’d probably _ever_ been but… he was okay. He was still here and Michael didn’t seem to plan on letting go anytime soon, and Calum didn’t feel so much like he was about to die anymore. “I think we can stand up now,” he whispered and Michael blinked at him in surprise for a moment before his face suddenly crumpled as he took in how dirty he’d got without realising it.

“It’s alright,” Calum murmured, feeling _scarily_ weak as Michael wrapped an arm around his waist to help the younger boy up. His palm rested gently on Calum’s hip and the dark-haired boy wanted to pull away so that Michael wouldn’t feel how disgusting he was but he wasn’t sure he had the strength anymore. “Let’s just go back to yours or something, yeah? It’s closer. We can get out of the rain.”

Calum moved on autopilot, so caught up in whatever the _hell_ had just happened that he didn’t even realise they’d arrived until Michael drew them to an uncertain stop, reaching for the keys in his pocket and groaning softly under his breath. Calum took them from the older boy’s unresisting fingers and the look Michael gave the younger boy then was almost _frightened_ as Calum brushed a light kiss over his shoulder, reaching shakily to unlock the door for them.

“It’s alright,” Calum repeated and Michael swallowed audibly, his eyelashes spiky and wet although it might not have been from the rain. The driveway was empty behind them and Calum was so relieved that Graham wasn’t home; the last thing he needed was Michael telling the nurse what had just happened. That would only end in tears.

Calum took his shoes off in the hallway and shrugged out of his soaking jacket although he was freezing cold without it. His rain-wet hair was dripping water into his eyes and he rubbed his chest weakly with one trembling hand as he turned back to face Michael.

The older boy was sitting slumped at the bottom of the stairs, his pale hands sore and shaking. One of his knuckles was even beading blood and Calum felt faintly sick when he saw how drawn Michael looked; how afraid and lost his eyes were behind a sheen of tears.

Calum knelt down to untie the older boy’s laces for him and Michael’s bottom lip wobbled. He curled his sore hands together, clasping them to his chest, and Calum wanted so badly for Michael to relax and stop hurting but he knew he was the _cause_ of most – if not all – of it. Maybe he should just distract him instead.

“Déjà vu,” Calum murmured with the ghost of a smile touching his lips when he eased Michael’s shoes off for him, remembering that day when they’d slipped out of school after Michael had been with Charlie… but the pair of them were _friends_ now and nothing was the same anymore.

A tear ran down Michael’s cheek – almost like he was thinking the same thing – and it clung to the corner of his mouth. It took everything Calum had not to just stretch up to kiss it away but Michael was still shaking and his breath was catching in his throat, and Calum didn’t want him to panic now… not after what had just happened outside.

“Mikey,” Calum coaxed gently, getting to his feet shakily and cradling the older boy’s pale clammy face in his hands. Michael’s eyes were shut against his tears and a tiny sob tore out of him. “Mikey, babe, _please_ look at me,” Calum begged, the pet name slipping out without his permission. A hurt noise escaped Michael but he quietened with difficulty, blinking his wet eyes open to gaze up at the younger boy.

“Babe?” Michael repeated and his voice was little more than a breath now… just the hint of a word that Calum caught in his mouth when he leant to press a soft kiss to the older boy’s lips.

“Everything’s fine,” Calum murmured as he carded his fingers gently through Michael’s damp blue hair, trying his hardest to get the older boy to relax.

“I need you to be alright, Cal,” Michael breathed, his fingers entwining hesitantly with Calum’s as he exhaled shakily, looking faded and wrecked. Calum hated that he’d reduced Michael to this. “I need that more than anything.”

“I’m right here,” Calum said and it was as close to a promise as he could give him.

“Can I get you anything?” Michael asked him in a small voice, still so frightened and weak that Calum just wanted to wrap the older boy up in his arms. Michael’s clothes were still dirty and it was obviously bothering him because he was trembling so badly that Calum tried to forget how exhausted he was; how achy and _old_ he felt as his bones ached. Clearly he was going to have to take charge here and he found that he didn’t hate the idea as much as he might have done once.

“Mikey, come into the kitchen with me, yeah? We’ll put your clothes in the washing machine and… I could probably do with some water… and we can make you some tea, yeah? You’re shivering.”

“I’m fine. I don't want tea,” Michael whispered but he did what Calum said anyway, rising shakily and slipping their fingers together carefully. His hand felt small in Calum’s and the dark-haired boy’s eyes prickled with tears as he led Michael into the kitchen. He turned away to fill a glass while the older boy slipped his muddy clothes off but he paused to give Michael’s shoulder a comforting squeeze as he headed back towards the hallway.

“Is it okay if we go upstairs?” Calum asked and the blue-haired boy nodded hesitantly, his lips almost bloodless as he pressed them together. “I might head up now. I’m really tired after… you know… today.” He tried to make his tone light and pretend he was talking about football but it was impossible when the last trace of light in Michael’s face flickered out; all Calum could think of was that terrible pain in his chest and the fear in the older boy’s eyes, and he knew Michael was remembering it too.

“I’ll… I’ll just be a minute,” the blue-haired boy murmured. “Will you be okay? Will you –”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Calum promised but he couldn’t quite smother his fear as he started the slow trek up the stairs because the anxiety was starting to eat away at him now. He had football again tomorrow and he was frightened that it might happen again but… what if it was worse next time? What if he couldn’t pull himself together and he really _did_ collapse, and everyone at school found out about him?

It was too scary to consider now.

Calum sipped his water slowly as he sat on the edge of Michael’s bed, wishing he could taking his uniform off but aware that it was impossible. Michael already seemed to be balanced on a knife and Calum thought the sight of his cuts might push the older boy over the edge.

His curls were already beginning to dry and the glass was sitting empty on the bedside table by the time Michael reappeared, dressed only in his boxers and a hoodie he must have had downstairs. It hung down to his thighs and was zipped up most of the way but his pale throat was still exposed, and Calum wanted nothing more than to press kisses to it; to distract them both from what had just happened; to lose himself in Michael’s skin.

The older boy’s hands were twisting together nervously, the skin reddened and sore like he’d scrubbed at it downstairs, and Calum frowned a little but, before he could give it too much thought, the older boy crawled onto the bed beside him, nudging Calum back so that he was lying more comfortably on the pillows.

“I didn’t have any other dry clothes downstairs,” Michael mumbled when he saw Calum’s eyes tracing his pale skin but the younger boy just shrugged as he drew Michael down on top of him, wrapping his arms firmly around the older boy’s soft waist. Michael’s skin smelt like petrichor from the weather outside and his eyelids were a little swollen from crying but he was so beautiful that the breath was stolen from Calum’s lungs.

The rain was pounding against the windows and the sky was growing darker now, and the quiet sigh that escaped Michael when Calum caught his lips in a soft kiss was enough to calm his nerves. Michael’s tongue was hot against his but the older boy was still shivering, squirming and sighing like it was impossible for him to relax.

Calum rolled them over carefully, making sure he kept all of his weight off of the older boy as he settled down between the lazy sprawl of Michael’s bare legs. Calum’s hands smoothed comfortingly down the older boy’s ribs through the hoodie he was wearing and Michael sighed, small and tired. Calum’s fingers tangled lightly in his blue hair and he pressed a tiny kiss to the corner of the older boy’s mouth as his hands slipped to Michael’s thighs, trying to warm the cool skin beneath his palms.

“That was so scary,” Michael gasped, his eyes fluttering shut as he drew Calum back in for another frantic kiss that tasted like desperation. “So, _so_ scary.”

“Want me to help you forget?” Calum asked lightly and Michael whimpered, arching his back when the younger boy’s hand slipped down to stroke his soft tummy. The blue-haired boy was already chubbing up between the warm press of their bodies and Calum would have been flattered if he hadn’t felt so scarily numb now.

“Please,” Michael begged and he already sounded wrecked. Calum couldn’t wait to see how much worse it could get.

He dropped a soft kiss onto Michael’s lips as he unzipped the hoodie, pushing it gently off his shoulders and leaving him in nothing but his boxers as he lay there on the rumpled sheets. Calum ducked his head to scatter kisses across the older boy’s shoulders and Michael gasped when Calum’s shaking hands settled once more on the pearly skin of the older boy’s thighs; they was cool beneath Calum’s fingertips and he leant down to suck hot kisses into the column of Michael’s throat.

Calum needed so badly to lose himself in Michael, in the taste and smell of his cold skin, and there were whines leaving the older boy now because Calum was leaving little kisses behind on his chest. He hadn’t forgotten how sensitive Michael’s torso had seemed that morning when they’d woken up together and Calum was determined to put that knowledge to good use now.

Michael whimpered when Calum’s mouth closed over his nipple and the hot slide of the younger boy’s tongue made Michael’s back arch as his hips rocked up, his cock pressing against Calum’s thigh in an aborted movement that dragged a soft moan from the blue-haired boy’s throat.

When Calum drifted down to kiss the older boy’s tummy, Michael groaned softly at the loss of the younger boy’s hot mouth, even as his cock twitched when Calum scratched lightly at the older boy’s treasure trail, dragging his fingertips through the soft hairs before his hand dipped teasingly into the heat of Michael’s boxers.

The blue-haired boy whimpered when Calum hooked his fingers into the thin material to gently remove them and Michael’s hands twitched like he was thinking about covering himself up, and Calum was sad that he was uncomfortable but it wasn’t like he was going to take his own clothes off or something. Michael would have to be brave.

“So fucking beautiful,” Calum breathed once he'd removed the boxers, tossing them onto the carpet behind him. The words didn’t feel scary anymore and Michael seemed to almost melt onto the mattress beneath him, his cock resting thick and leaking on his pale thigh, the tip leaking pearly drops of pre-cum onto his skin. Michael’s cheeks heated when Calum caught the drops on his fingertips and his moan was muffled when Calum gently pushed his fingers into the older boy’s mouth. A shiver of heat ran through him when he felt Michael’s tongue curling but Calum didn’t think he had the energy to get off tonight; he was too exhausted.

“So good for me,” Calum murmured when he saw Michael watching him with desperate, lust-blown green eyes. His cheeks were stained pink now but his hands had stopped shaking and he let out a broken little whine when Calum nosed up his thigh, leaving soft kisses to the pale crease of skin where the swell of Michael’s arse began.

“Gonna turn over for me, babe?” Calum mumbled as he scattered kisses over the older boy’s thighs, remembering his reaction earlier when he’d used the word. “Being so good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Michael whispered, his cheeks flaming now although he did what he’d been told, falling easily into the headspace of simply doing what Calum asked of him because he trusted the younger boy not to take more than he could give. Calum remembered that day he’d lost his virginity for a moment but it was little more than a flicker now and he cast it aside impatiently; this was more important.

“So lovely, aren’t you?” Calum breathed – almost too soft for Michael to hear – because it was the closest to a confession that he could allow himself now and it tasted so bittersweet in his mouth.

The blue-haired boy moaned quietly into the pillows as Calum smoothed his hands up the insides of his thighs, higher and higher until he was cupping Michael’s balls instead. The older boy pressed down into it with a muffled groan and Calum smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of the blue-haired boy’s arse as his hands drifted to stroke the underside of his cock instead. Michael jerked into the contact, whining as his cock leaked onto the sheets, hot and heavy between his legs.

It felt like the easiest thing in the world when Calum spread Michael’s cheeks carefully with his thumbs and leant forwards to kiss his hole. Michael shuddered, a rough moan clawing its way out of him as Calum’s tongue slid hot over the tight ring of muscle.

Calum felt almost like he was watching someone else doing this to Michael as he tightened his grip on the older boy’s hips, holding him steady as he fucked his tongue into him. A broken moan escaped Michael and Calum reached around clumsily to grip the older boy’s cock, stroking his thumb over the tip and pressing lightly into the slit as Michael let out a low sob.

He was trembling against Calum now, shaking as he buried his face in the crook of his elbow and arched his back as he searched for the dark-haired boy’s tongue. Calum could tell how good Michael felt in the little moans of pleasure pouring out of the older boy’s cherry-red lips; in the pink staining his cheeks and the tears leaking down his overheated face as he fucked up clumsily into the younger boy’s fist.

“C’mon, babe,” Calum murmured when Michael’s hips started to stutter as his balls drew up tight to his body. Michael clenched down so tightly that Calum’s tongue couldn’t push inside anymore so he sucked at his rim instead, his tongue sliding hot over it as he twisted his fist over the head of Michael’s cock. His nails dug lightly into the milky skin of the older boy’s thigh and Calum smiled as Michael’s hips rocked forwards frantically to chase the friction of his fist. “Gonna be a good boy and cum for me, babe?”

Calum didn’t know where the words had come from – some secret place inside that he’d always tried to ignore, maybe – but they had the desired effect. Michael fell apart with a broken moan and Calum stroked him through it until he was flinching at the oversensitivity, his cheeks stained red and tears leaking stubbornly down his cheeks as they escaped from beneath his closed lids.

Michael slumped down onto his back on the mattress, his expression faintly stunned as Calum wiped his hands subtly on the sheets, hoping it wouldn’t be noticed. Calum’s cheeks were red and he felt a little out of breath but the distraction had done them both good; he felt much better than he had earlier, if a little too dizzy to risk standing up just yet.

“Cal?” Michael murmured, his expression dazed now as his hand twitched weakly towards the younger boy. “Do you want me to –”

“Not right now,” Calum said hurriedly, leaning to press a soft kiss to the older boy’s bare shoulder as he helped him wriggle back into the hoodie he’d been lying on. “This was about you, Mike. Not me.”

The words were true but there was a second reason too and that was that Calum wasn’t even _hard_ – he definitely didn’t have the drive for it anymore – and he felt like he’d let Michael down almost… like he couldn’t even be properly close to the older boy anymore.

“If you’re sure,” Michael murmured, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as his tiredness overwhelmed him. His long golden eyelashes fanned out on his pale cheeks and he was sweating a little bit now but he felt warm when Calum crawled back up the bed, curling up beside him.

Calum still felt just as detached as he always did – like a puppet almost, hardly capable of independent thought anymore – but the little voice in his head insisting that he was going to hurt everyone if he stayed alive had quietened for a moment and Calum felt content which he thought _almost_ felt better.

Michael’s pale fingers worked their way gently through the younger boy’s curls and Calum’s aching heart felt raw in his chest when Michael pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. The dark-haired boy had to close his eyes against the tears stinging them but he felt the pain loosening in his chest a little when Michael’s mouth latched onto his throat, kissing and biting gently as he sucked a bruise into the tanned skin.

Calum liked this; wanted Michael to mark him more than he could put into words because, god, here was tangible proof that he was still _alive_ … like when he cut just to see the blood welling up… except this was softer and infinitely more precious.

The cuts hidden under Calum’s clothes gave a phantom throb as the thought crossed his mind but he lost himself in the feeling of Michael’s lips on his throat and he was glad the older boy had never found out how badly Calum had torn himself apart. Hopefully Michael never would.

The blue-haired boy’s hands smoothed soothingly down Calum’s shoulders and he hummed contentedly when Michael settled down over him again, just tucking his head away beneath the younger boy’s chin as he clung to him tightly. Michael was shaking and Calum could feel his own tears leaking down his cheeks but it didn’t hurt anymore. Nothing did now.

Calum couldn't feel enough for pain.

Michael’s hands were still pressing reassuringly against him though and that was what Calum focused on now; that feeling of being close to the one he loved more than anything. 

Calum just wanted to feel alive for one more moment before he lost himself completely.

He wanted to feel like Michael wanted him, even if this  _was_ the last time.

Calum wanted Michael too but he _knew_ it wouldn’t be anywhere near as fleeting and that was maybe the worst part of all because Calum would _always_ want Michael; always and forever…

But he could never have him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! Again, I really hope I did this justice and I’d love to know what you thought.  
> The next chapter is where it all really goes to hell and I’d just like to apologise in advance.  
> I’d love to hear what you thought <3


	100. One Last Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“_ Dad _?” David repeated and a horrible sneer touched his lips. He seemed to grow taller as the rage grew inside him, seemed to draw in the shadows so that the hallway was even darker where Calum was cowering. “Don’t ever call me that again, you little fag,” David said and his voice was no louder than a whisper now. “You’re no son of mine.”_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We did it! We actually made it to 100 chapters and I can't believe it! :D  
> Also... two updates in one day! What the hell is going on?!  
> Basically, I just want to get all of the horrible, HEARTBREAKING angst out of the way so I'm just like... binge writing it. As you can imagine, this is probably not the healthiest thing I could do for myself mentally but we'll see how it goes.  
> This is kind of what I've been building up to through the whole fic and it's going to be a bumpy ride for the next couple of chapters now.  
> I'm really sorry about this chapter.  
> (I really, _really_ wanted to use these lyrics too so I'm very proud of myself right now.)
> 
> Trigger warning for homophobic language, domestic abuse, and implied non-graphic non-con at the end (but only hinted at).

**_Come on; make it easy._ **

**_Say I never mattered._ **

_\- Young Volcanoes, Fall Out Boy_

 

The foreboding settled like lead in Calum’s chest as he walked home that night. His coat was still wet from earlier that afternoon although the rain had stopped falling now. Calum smoked a cigarette as he walked, each step slow and careful as he cut his way through the darkness.

The lights were blazing from the windows when he finally turned down his road, the yellow light spilling out into the shadows, but there was nothing welcoming about it because David’s car was parked in the driveway and faint shouting could be heard coming from inside the house.

Nearby, the Clifford's house sat in darkness.

Calum trailed unwillingly towards his front door, taking in the riot of overgrown flowers edging the unkempt lawn and the dirt smearing the shiny silver paint of David’s car. It looked as though his parents didn’t care what the neighbours thought of them anymore and Calum wondered when that had changed; wondered how it had escaped his notice.

His key turning in the lock sounded like a gun going off to Calum - so loud that the voices inside ceased instantly - and he tried to square his shoulders as he let himself into his childhood home but his muscles protested even that now. Calum felt like a ghost.

David was waiting for his son in the hallway when the dark-haired boy shut the door carefully and the silence growing between them was thorny with tension as Joy appeared in the doorway too. She didn’t seem to be injured - any worse than usual, at least - but her eyes were sore from crying and she was watching Calum frantically, her expression wary and afraid.

“Where have you been, boy?” David asked coldly, his voice quiet and measured. “It’s a Monday night. What makes you think you can come traipsing in at some ungodly hour?”

“I’m sorry,” Calum whispered, flinching when David took a few menacing steps closer and pointedly sniffed the air. Calum cursed when he realised his dad must be able to smell the cigarette smoke. “I was… out.”

David’s eyes glittered with something unpleasant and Calum cringed when he realised he’d pressed himself back against the wall, his arms wrapped tightly around himself like he was trying to appear as small as possible.

“Out with who?” David asked softly as his gaze settled on his son’s neck. Calum felt something wither inside him when he realised the bruise must be visible, even in the dim light of the hallway. “Violet? That was your little girlfriend’s name, wasn’t it?”

Calum’s throat closed up and his stomach clenched sickeningly as his nails dug into his arms through the coat he was still wearing. He managed to catch Joy’s eye over her husband’s shoulder and his mum nodded frantically, her dark eyes damp with frightened tears now as she silently pleaded with her son to lie… but Calum was done with lying.

His heart still ached in his chest and Michael had cried over him for the last time. Calum was finished.

He wasn’t going to run away from things anymore.

“Not Violet,” he answered after a long moment, forcing himself to hold David’s gaze as he tried (and failed) to convince himself it was less scary this time because he’d already said it to his mum… but Calum thought, secretly, that this might be the scariest thing he’d ever done. Maybe it would be the _last_ thing he ever did too.

At least that would save Calum the trouble of finding a quick way to end it.

“No?” David asked and there was something fiery in his gaze now as he took another menacing step closer, like maybe he could _tell_ that his son was about to say something he wouldn’t like. “Then who were you with, boy? Who’ve you been fucking? Spit it out!” He shouted the last three words and Calum flinched so violently that his head hit the wall behind him as he gasped in pain.

“ **Michael** ,” Calum breathed but it sounded like he’d shouted it. “I was with Michael.”

The icy silence in the hallway splintered like the surface of a frozen lake and Calum’s stomach felt like it had dropped right out of his body when his father’s eyes glittered with rage.

“What the hell are you talking about, boy?!” he snapped and Calum was shaking so badly he could barely stay upright now. Tears ran down Joy’s cheeks as she stood helplessly behind them, shaking her head silently as she covered her mouth with both hands.

“I’m not straight, dad,” Calum said. “Not at all.” His voice didn’t crack and his chocolate brown eyes widened in surprise when he realised this; when he realised that he was still holding his father’s gaze even if the fury in it _did_ make him want to crumple to his knees.

“What the fuck are you saying, Calum?” David murmured and his voice was almost silky now, and the dark-haired boy’s blood ran cold with fear. He’d heard his father talk to Joy like this just seconds before losing it and… Calum was treading on ice now; on very, _very_ thin ice.

“I’m bisexual or… or _something_ ,” the seventeen year old said helplessly, remembering that night under the willow tree with Aleisha for a moment; all of the different labels or the idea that maybe he didn’t even need to pick one. Calum liked that option most but he didn’t think that would go down well with David at all. “I don’t know _what_ I am, dad, but… I’m not straight.” Calum’s dark eyes gleamed with tears now but it didn’t matter in that moment that he could never be with the one he loved; all that mattered was how he felt. “I’m in love with Michael,” Calum whispered and the honesty in his words _blazed_.

The disgust and contempt saturated the older man’s face slowly, like oil seeping into the ocean, and Calum had planned to be angry and shout - to at least _pretend_ to be proud of who he was, if only to show David - but he wasn’t strong enough anymore.

"I'm not sorry, dad," he breathed but it was too much.

Calum crumbled under the weight of his father’s loathing, folding like a deck of cards… like jade green leaves torn from the apple tree in the park to fall down around him. Calum broke apart like dust scattered in the wind; dimmed like a bulb blowing with one last dull flare of light before there was only darkness.

“ _Dad_?” David repeated and a horrible sneer touched his lips. He seemed to grow taller as the rage grew inside him, seemed to draw in the shadows so that the hallway was even darker where Calum was cowering. “Don’t ever call me that again, you little fag,” David said and his voice was no louder than a whisper now. “You’re no son of mine.”

“Good,” Calum spat and a broken sound escaped Joy as David slammed Calum back into the wall, the metal radiator nearby biting painfully into his hip as the older man glared at him, his eyes livid and burning.

“You have always been the biggest disappointment,” David said slowly, his words twisted with hatred, and Calum knew the words were the truth. He’d always been a disgusting, fat failure so the words _shouldn’t_ have been so awful to hear; that didn’t change the fact that they burnt him like acid though. “I’ve always hated almost everything about you - your only saving graces were football and finding that _fucking_ girlfriend… but you couldn’t even do that right, could you?!” David shook him as hard as he could but his voice was still quiet until, suddenly, it wasn’t anymore. “ _Why are you such a fucking disappointment_?!”

Calum’s head hit the wall when David shook him again and stars burst before the younger boy’s eyes, and for just a moment he wondered if this was how Luke felt when his father turned on him, but then Calum’s head smacked back again and his teeth sank into his tongue, and the metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth.

“Everything about you is _wrong_!” David shouted and Calum’s knees were weak beneath him now, and it seemed ironic that the only thing keeping him upright was his father. “You look like a fucking skeleton and the day you starve yourself to death can’t come soon enough, boy!”

The blood trickled down Calum’s chin slowly and Joy was sobbing behind them now, pulling feebly at her husband’s arm as she tried to tear David away, and Calum wanted to tell her to run somewhere _safe_ but… he couldn’t find the words anymore. All he could focus on were David’s fingers pressing blackish bruises into his brittle arms as he trembled like a leaf in his father’s grip.

“You’re no son of mine and you never were! _Never_!” David roared and Calum was aching so, _so_ badly but he could live with this; could cope with it because these were all things he’d thought himself anyway. “I wish you’d never been born!”

The last sentence was accompanied with an arm pressing hard across his throat and Calum choked, abruptly terrified as his air supply was cut off. The dizziness in his head returned full-force and, dimly, as though he was watching someone else fight for one last breath, Calum saw himself clawing at his father’s skin as his heart jack-hammered in his chest.

“You’re going to kill him!” Joy screamed, half-blind with panic as she threw herself at her husband, landing useless punches and smacks to his broad shoulders. “You’re killing him, David! Stop!”

The arm cutting off Calum’s air supply vanished as quickly as it had appeared and the dark-haired boy crumpled, falling down heavily onto his knees as he wheezed in desperate breaths. He heaved a little, probably would have been _sick_ if he’d eaten anything at all in the last three days, and Calum’s cheek was pressed to the cool panelled wood now and his head was spinning sickeningly.

The adrenaline in his veins made him feel like his fragile body was about to go up in flames.

“ **You** ,” David said coldly and he was advancing on Joy now, his furious expression more detached than Calum had ever seen it. “It’s your fucking fault that he’s like this.”

He backhanded her so hard across the face that Joy crumpled onto the floor too, spitting blood as a broken sob escaped her when she landed on all fours. Her dark eyes desperately settled on Calum though and the relief flooding her rapidly-swelling face took his breath away as she began to cry softly.

“ _Mum_ ,” Calum croaked, his throat so bruised and inflamed that he couldn’t fight back the tears boiling over in his eyes. “Mum, I’m sorry. This is my fault, mum. I - _Leave her alone_!” His broken cry might as well have been silent for all the attention David paid him as he knotted his fingers in Joy’s hair, dragging her to her feet with a savage smile as she cried out in pain. “Mum! Mum, no! _No_! Leave her alone! Please! Just let her go!”

Joy tore herself free, wincing as her some of her hair was ripped out at the roots, but she closed the gap between them and cupped Calum’s face gently, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek.

“It’s okay,” she murmured like she was pleading with him to understand but her voice grew panic-stricken when David knotted his fingers in her hair again, dragging her towards the stairs. “It’s okay, Calum, I promise! Just… just leave now, okay? Just - Please, David, _please_. He’s our **son**. You can’t _do_ this!”

Calum couldn’t even comprehend what was going on anymore but his panic was exploding inside him like an atomic bomb and nothing was ever going to be okay again because… because David was dragging her into their _bedroom_ and, suddenly, all Calum could think of was that night with Ashley when she’d told him how powerless and vulnerable Noah had made her feel; how ashamed and responsible, like everything was her fault. Calum remembered how she had said she felt _broken_... and he couldn't let that happen to his mum too. He _couldn't_.

Calum lurched to his feet, trying to chase David but he was so dizzy that he crashed into the wall and his shoulder began to throb painfully. He could still scarcely catch his breath and he was shaking so badly that he felt like he was going to fall to pieces any second, and his heart was starting to spike with pain again now, only worsening the terror flooding through him.

Calum caught up to them halfway up the stairs but he was too weak and his father’s shove sent him slamming back down onto the floor of the hallway. It winded him so badly and his ribs screamed with pain as his head hit the floor hard enough that black dots swam before his vision, and dimly Calum could hear his mother screaming at David to leave him alone but Calum just… couldn’t anymore.

He heard the sound of his parents’ bedroom door shutting. He heard the crying and the shouting and… and then everything fell ominously quiet and Calum stopped fighting anymore.

He half-crawled to the front door, blood smeared sickeningly over his chin, his throat aching badly every time he drew in a rasping breath. Calum clawed his way upright by clinging to the door handle and his ribs hurt so badly that they made him want to be sick as he clutched at them, feeling how badly bruised they were even through the coat he was still bundled up in.

Calum opened the door and stood there on the front step, his eyes gritty with tears and swollen from crying as a light breeze caressed his face, carrying with it the scent of eucalyptus leaves and sea salt. It reminded Calum of home and he wanted nothing more than to raze everything to the ground around him.

He went to lie down in their front garden instead, cushioned on the rain-wet grass as he gazed up unseeingly into the dark murky sky. He jammed a cigarette between his lips with fingers trembling so badly that it took him five goes to light it and he’d maybe never felt more pathetic than he did in that moment.

The tip of the cigarette lit up a dull amber and Calum inhaled so deeply that he choked on the smoke, only making his twinging ribs hurt more. His head was pounding and the cigarette wasn’t enough to mask the taste of blood in his mouth, and Calum was trying _so_ hard not to imagine what was going on inside but he wanted to fucking **die**.

He wanted to kill David… wanted Joy to escape… wanted everything to just _stop_.

Calum had had enough.

He couldn’t deal with it anymore.

He needed it all to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> David just needs to go to hell, doesn’t he? What a dick.
> 
> Anyway, thank you very, very much for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought <3  
> Also for putting up with my probably-irritating lack of consistency when uploading. That wasn't cool of me.  
> Either way, thank you all so much for sticking around for this long! I promise the end really is in sight now.
> 
> If you read Maelstrom then you know that everything goes to shit now.  
> If you _didn’t_?  
>  Well… you have been warned.


	101. The Point Of No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum’s tears burnt down his cheeks like acid but he barely noticed them. He couldn’t feel it anymore. He felt **nothing** , just a constant sobbing litany of: ‘_my fault, everything is my fault _’ that he couldn’t escape from no matter_ how _desperately he ran._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Third update in 24 hours and I'm on a roll.  
> This update is quite short but very necessary so I hope you'll like it.  
> This feels like the calm before the storm... but it isn't that calm at all really.  
> I'm really sorry for what's about to happen.

**_Please have mercy on me._ **

**_Take it easy on my heart._ **

**_Even though you don't mean to hurt me,_ **

**_You keep tearing me apart._ **

_\- Mercy, Shawn Mendes_

 

Calum’s whole body felt like a bruise when he woke up on Tuesday morning.

He’d let himself back into the house at around four o'clock once the crying had finally stopped and the skin of his wrists was sore now, littered with countless livid red scratches that he'd cut into his skin. Calum was stiff and aching, and his ribs were bruised an ugly purplish colour from the night before. He tasted blood in his mouth when he made himself sick.

It was dreary and overcast outside, and Calum didn’t feel overwhelmed anymore. He felt numb instead; unfeeling and insensitive and… and _cold_. He felt **dead** inside and it had happened as easily as turning out a light… and as painfully as dragging his broken body over a bed of broken glass, only to discover that he’d arrived too late to fix things anyway.

Calum was too late. He would always, _always_ be too late.

He could never fix things again now.

He was useless.

Joy wasn't in the kitchen when he finally drifted downstairs, over an hour earlier than he needed to be. His hair was limp and his eyes were dull, and Calum stared at that patch of wooden panelling where he had landed the night before with vacant eyes as the darkness in his chest hardened into something lethal… into something that could never, _ever_  be burnt away now, no matter how hard he fought against it... but Calum didn't fight against it. He was too tired, it was too much, and he hurt too badly.

He would never fight again.

Every movement hurt him and he could feel his sleeves sticking to the cuts on his arms. Calum pressed down on them absently as he stood frozen in the hallway, his expression blank in the half-light as he remembered Joy cupping his cheeks gently the night before and screaming at Calum’s father to leave him alone.

The dark-haired boy didn’t have to accidentally ‘forget’ his lunch in the fridge that morning because no one had made him one. The pretences were gone and Calum couldn’t find it in himself to care. He couldn’t _feel_ enough to get upset now.

Calum’s throat ached when he swallowed and, for just a moment, David’s livid face flickered in front of his eyes; the cold rage saturating his father's twisted face as he pressed his forearm against his son’s throat, cutting off his oxygen. Calum shuddered at the memory, his heart aching dully in his chest, and slipped out into the early morning mist.

Calum left the front door open behind him and it looked eerie in the dull grey light of another day. He wondered if the mist would coil its way into the house, filling the still air with ghostlike shapes as it took up the spaces Calum and Mali had left behind.

Calum wondered how long it would take for his parents to realise that  _he_ was gone too.

He wondered if anyone would care.

His father wouldn't, obviously, and he wasn't sure Joy would anymore, not after the pain and anguish Calum had caused her the night before. He felt like every trouble in the world was on his shoulders now and he could scarcely breathe beneath the weight of it.

His blank gaze drifted to his front garden where the indentation of his body in the grass was still visible from the night before; he couldn't believe he was so heavy that it was still present now, hours later, but there it was, as plain as day.

Icy self-loathing unfurled in Calum’s gut and he began to run, his backpack banging uncomfortably into his bruised back as his aching ribs protested the movement. He reached the beach and the pebbles slid dangerously beneath his peeling Vans but Calum barely noticed because the grey ocean was crashing white foam onto the rocks and the sky was bleak overhead, and the pier was destroyed now; the wooden planks jutting out like broken teeth into the nothingness, the splinters jagged and torn.

Calum’s tears burnt down his cheeks like acid but he barely noticed them. He couldn’t feel it anymore. He felt **nothing** , just a constant sobbing litany of: ‘ _my fault, everything is my fault_ ’ that he couldn’t escape from no matter _how_ desperately he ran.

Calum only stopped stumbling when his legs gave out beneath him and he plunged down onto the stones, listening to them clacking together and remembering those days he’d spent on the beach with Luke, back when the sunshine had still touched his skin. That felt like a different lifetime now and Calum couldn’t reach it anymore. He wasn’t even sure if the boy he’d been then still _existed_.

Calum thought he might be dead.

He got to his feet slowly, his hollow face exhausted, his eyes more world-weary than they had ever been in his short life as he hitched his backpack up onto his shoulders again. The cuts on his wrists re-opened and wept blood. Calum lit his last cigarette, his dark eyes transfixed by the flame as he drew the smoke into his lungs.

The bruise on his neck throbbed gently when he began to walk towards school and it took Calum a moment to realise that it hadn’t been inflicted by David but by _Michael_ instead. Calum’s fingertips were shaking when they brushed it gently and he thought of the older boy for a moment - his lips against Calum's skin, his soft hands in Calum’s hair, his thigh slipping between Calum’s legs - and it wasn’t enough to save him but, _god_ , Calum wished it was more than anything.

The mist was beginning to drift away but the sun hadn’t yet burnt through the cloudbank and Calum felt like his skin was dissipating too, leaving only charred bones behind that would crumble to dust in the lightest breeze.

He was almost gone now, barely clinging to life by his fingertips anymore, and Calum’s exhaustion and anger and fucking _terror_ had combined to create a bone-deep ache that his heart pumped weakly around his broken body like poison.

Calum knew he couldn’t be fixed now and it felt like maybe the rest of the world might finally realise it too.

Everything was breaking down around him and there would be nothing left for Calum to destroy soon but… he refused to let the people he loved become _that_ fractured. He wouldn’t let them go past the point of no return like he had; they didn't deserve to suffer like that but, somewhere along the way, it had happened anyway.

His loved ones were the collateral damage in a war Calum had never signed up to fight and he _knew_ that now. He could see it.

He would be better off gone.

The realisation didn’t feel vicious or suicidal, although clearly he must have been subconsciously; it just felt pragmatic instead, like this was the most sensible solution to a problem Calum had no hope of fixing anymore.

Calum had no hope at all, period.

There was too much pain; too many agonising lies that ripped away little pieces of him until he was utterly raw, bleeding out while everyone just watched him die, and Calum couldn’t deal with it anymore.

He needed to take himself out of the picture – wanted to so badly that it burnt him like a forest fire from the inside out, leaving nothing but a withered husk in its place – but Calum wasn't _quite_ ready to let go… not of Joy or Mali or Michael or Ashton or Luke or Aleisha or Ashley...

Not quite.

Not _yet_.

But Calum knew it wouldn’t take much now.

Not much at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3  
> I'm going to do my best to write the next update when I get home from work tonight and, although I'll try my hardest, it _might_ not be updated until tomorrow but I'll do my best.  
>  Again, thank you so much <3
> 
> Sorry for all the angst too. I really suck wow.


	102. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _For just a moment, Calum remembered the first time he’d ever led the team to a victory, back when he was just eleven years old._  
>  _Michael had pulled him into the biggest hug when Calum had hurtled towards him, crashing into his best friend like a shooting star, and Michael’s proud smile had been brighter than the sun in that moment._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second update in one day!!!  
> This chapter takes place during Chapter 130 in Maelstrom in case you wanted a reminder. I tried really hard not to make it too similar and I hope I did a good job because this has been planned for so long now!  
> Have fun reading this (if that's possible...)  
> Fingers crossed you enjoy it <3

**_I'm choking on my words,_ **

**_Like I got a noose around my neck._ **

**_I can't believe it's come to this,_ **

**_And, dear, I fear,_ **

**_That this ship is sinking tonight._ **

_\- The Sadness Will Never End, Bring Me The Horizon_

 

The coach’s office was very untidy and Calum was sure Michael would have hated it. Papers and files were scattered across the desk but there was mud trodden into the carpet too; little bits of grass stamped into the rug beside the door. An ancient computer sat half-lost among the papers and the room was lit only by the faded white light filtering in from outside. Calum could see out onto the field from here; could see the goal posts with their ragged nets and the wobbly white lines that made up their pitch.

So many games had been won and lost out there. Calum couldn’t work out where he’d gone wrong.

“Hood,” the coach said quietly and the dark-haired boy jerked his head up, his hand flying out to grip the back of the swivel chair when even that made him dizzy. The older man’s eyes narrowed as he stood leaning against the wall, an unhappy expression on his face. “Do you remember what we talked about last time?”

He meant that day when they’d sat in the changing rooms together and the older man had expressed his concerns about Calum’s home life; about his health and any possible medical conditions the younger boy might be suffering with. He’d told Calum that the school offered a lot of support for people who were struggling and Calum had lied blatantly to his face when he’d insisted that everything was okay.

“You gave me one last chance, right?” Calum said and the older man’s face became infinitely sadder.

“That’s not the part I was talking about, Calum,” the coach said gently and the use of the dark-haired boy’s first name _shocked_ him. The coach had only used it once before, back when Calum was thirteen years old and had fallen badly while playing, resulting in him breaking his arm in two places. The coach had gone in the ambulance with him and he’d called him by his first name then, and the memory made Calum’s breath escape him like someone had kicked him in the chest.

“I’m worried about you,” the coach said bluntly, his eyes soft with concern. “You’ve been on my team since you started here - since you were _eleven_ years old - but something’s changed over the last year. I worried but I never said anything and… I’m truly sorry for that, Calum. I can’t tell you how much.”

Calum’s dark eyes were wide with shock now and he prayed the fear he could feel wasn’t evident in his eyes; the hours he’d spent crying the night before hidden from his exhausted face.

“It’s okay,” Calum said quietly, too surprised to stay silent now like perhaps he should have. “I don’t blame you. At least you cared enough to ask.”

Concern rippled across the older man’s worried face and Calum’s heart pounded too-fast in his chest, like he was running a marathon instead of just standing still.

“Are you okay, Calum?” the older man asked at length and the dark-haired boy’s lips twitched like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

He wanted to reply with: " _Help me. **Please** help me. I think I’m going to kill myself. It's the only thing I can think of anymore. I want to die so badly I can taste it. Please help me. **Please**!_ " but the words got lost coming out of his mouth and all that escaped him instead was: "I'm fine."

The coach was leaning against his desk now, his face almost grey as he rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. It left his hair sticking up messily and there was something vulnerable in his slumped posture as he watched the dark-haired boy hopelessly.

“Are you lying?” he asked and his voice was weak now. Calum’s head felt too heavy for his shoulders.

“Yes,” he whispered and the lump rising in his throat made it difficult to breathe past as another wave of comforting numbness rolled over him, icy and crushing.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth, Calum,” the older man murmured but Calum couldn’t stay here any longer. He pushed away from the desk and turned, heading for the door although he hesitated as he tried to gather enough strength to make it out onto the pitch.

“I’m sorry I let you down, coach,” he said softly but he was gone before the older man had time to respond.

The wind was picking up outside and Calum had to push the door open with his shoulder which only aggravated the bruise he’d sustained the night before when he’d chased his father down the hallway. Tears stung his eyes but Calum blinked them away as quickly as he could because the office door opened up right beside the changing rooms, and Michael and Luke were waiting outside.

“Hey, Cal,” Luke said cheerfully when the saw the dark-haired boy emerging, already dressed in his sweatpants and the sweatshirt with **CAPTAIN** emblazoned across the back. The blond boy was wearing one of the jumpers Michael kept in his locker over the top of his Kings uniform and he looked happy to see Calum, at least until he noticed how stiffly the smaller boy was holding himself as he refused to melt into the hug.

“How are you here?” Calum asked weakly, glancing towards Michael and away again quickly. The bruise the older boy had sucked into the dark-haired boy’s throat throbbed and Calum shivered, struggling to focus on what Luke was saying.

“- study period so we only have to be in this afternoon and I figured it would be nice to watch Ash practise,” the blond boy explained quietly. “Hence the uniform. Blue leant me his sweatshirt so I don’t get beaten up by territorial public school students,” Luke said proudly and Calum’s laugh took so much effort that he _ached_.

“Blue? That’s the least imaginative nickname I’ve ever heard,” he joked weakly but Luke’s pale face cracked into a smile anyway and Michael let out a little amused huff of breath, bumping his shoulder lightly against Calum’s - _right_ over the damn bruise - before he loped away to lean against the wall nearby, easing his phone out of his pocket because apparently that was less uncomfortable than their conversation.

Calum watched him go, his heart stuttering in his chest as Ashton emerged from the changing rooms and pulled his boyfriend into a warm hug. The forced amusement slipped from Calum’s face like water and he folded his arms tightly as his fingertips dug into the cuts lining his arms. The sting was worse than he’d expected but Calum didn’t even mind the pain now; he sort of _liked_ it almost.

It was what he deserved.

“C’mon, Ash,” Calum muttered when the older boy seemed content to stand there in his boyfriend’s embrace. The team were gradually leaving the changing room now and Calum’s head was spinning sickeningly. He felt like he was about to fall down. “Let’s get this over with.”

Calum tried to stride on ahead but his knees felt too weak beneath him to properly support his weight anymore and he supposed that shouldn’t have surprised him. _Fuck_ , he was fat but that wasn’t even the worst of it now because he was disgusting and clingy too; weak and unstable. He was toxic.

Calum wasn’t good enough - he had _never_ been good enough - and that was what it all boiled down to in the end. Calum wasn’t **perfect** and it burnt worse than anything because it was the one thing he’d always sought after but had never once been able to achieve.

He had lost himself somewhere in the darkness and that was all there was to it.

Calum’s agony had blinded him to everything else and there was only pain left now.

The clouds were gathering darkly overhead as Calum came to a stop on the sidelines, too dizzy to drag himself out into the middle of the field because even moving this much hurt after the previous night. He felt like he was going to collapse in a heap of fractured bones on the muddy ground.

The coach had emerged from his office now too, still pale-faced and worried, and the few players who had joined the dark-haired boy on the field were shooting their captain curious looks now, like they were confused by the state Calum had found himself in. Sam looked especially concerned as he saw the captain and Calum squared his jaw, fighting not to snap at him.

He was finding it increasingly difficult to control his emotions now and he hated that it reminded him of his father; hated that it showed him just how badly he was losing his shit because he didn’t think he could fucking _take_ this anymore.

Michael had joined Luke and Ashton again as the three of them appeared on the sidelines too, and the blue-haired boy looked even more lost and confused than Calum felt. He looked _small_ and Calum’s numbness was burning up like fog in bright sunlight, and Calum wasn’t sure he wanted to be around other people when the dam finally broke.

His ribs ached painfully when he drew in a shaky breath and, abruptly, all Calum could remember was the night before; the panic as David choked him, the fury on his father’s face, Joy’s screams rapidly turning to choked sobs. Calum tore his thoughts away forcibly and, jarringly, he was standing back on the field again, fighting tears as the team wandered over cheerfully.

“Get your lazy arses out on the field!” Calum shouted but his voice sounded weak even to his own ears and everyone was staring at him in disbelief now, their expressions equal parts shocked and incredulous because Calum had _never_ spoken to the team like this. Not once, no matter how bad a day he might have been having.

He always left his problems back in the changing rooms with the rest of his belongings but, right now, that didn’t seem to be possible anymore. He felt like he was about to break; to shatter into millions of tiny, useless pieces. David was right about him.

He was **nothing**.

“Hood!” the coach said sharply but the concern in his eyes was undeniable as he watched the scene unfolding anxiously. He looked like maybe he wanted to take Calum aside and try to talk to him again but the dark-haired boy couldn’t let that happen because, if he started crying now, he was terrified he might not remember how to stop again.

“Sorry, coach,” Calum forced out but the numbness was _gone_ now and Calum felt like he was about to explode; felt like he was simultaneously crumbling apart and burning up and being torn to shreds. His cuts itched painfully under his sleeves and the **PERFECT** scarring his thigh gave a phantom throb. Calum’s knees felt like they were going to give way beneath him.

His panic was only adding to his dizziness and Calum’s father’s words were spinning around his head, spiteful and barbed as he told Calum how he’d always been the biggest disappointment; how he could do nothing right because he was a failure and how _everything_ about him was wrong; how the day Calum fucking _died_ couldn't come soon enough for his father...

Fuck, Calum couldn’t breathe anymore; could feel his sanity draining away from him like snowmelt because that felt like the only thing he had control over anymore. David didn’t want Calum as a son? He wished the dark-haired boy had never been born?

Well, that was fine. Calum wished he’d never been born either.

“This attitude is going to get you nowhere, Hood,” the coach said but his voice was quieter now, even as a note of warning crept into his voice. Maybe he could see how close to breaking Calum really was. Maybe he didn’t want to be the one to scrape the bloody chunks of the former captain up off the pitch after Calum exploded and tore himself apart.

“Look,” Calum tried to argue but he was rubbing his neck anxiously now, hating how shallow his breathing had become as his panic seared through him. His fingers tangled in what remained of his once-thick curls and Calum tore at them, hoping the dull pain would be enough to clear his head. It wasn’t. “There’s just a lot on my mind!” he said desperately.

Any other words Calum might have spoken in his defence died in his sore throat when he saw Michael staring at him in horror. His emerald eyes were terrified and Calum remembered what his face looked like when he fell apart for a moment; remembered the whines escaping him the last time they’d been together and the taste of him lingering in Calum’s mouth, long after he’d left the blue-haired boy behind.

Calum couldn’t tear his gaze away; couldn’t do anything but _drown_ in the older boy’s beautiful green eyes, even as the agony of never being able to call him his own burnt Calum from the inside out… but he could accept that now. It was the only thing that made sense anymore.

Of _course_ Calum wasn’t good enough for someone as wonderful as Michael. Of _course_ not.

"Hood,” the coach began and his voice was softer now, more reminiscent of their earlier conversation in his office. “If you can’t stay focused then maybe you should have a break today and we can discuss this after school -”

Calum took a shambling step away from him, reeling away from the words that hinted that he might have to actually _address_ his problems, and the bruise on his neck was throbbing again now as Calum’s fingertips dug into it. It made swallowing difficult for a moment and he remembered his father’s arm crushing his windpipe; remembered the fear and the pain and the _grief_ he felt as the knowledge that he really was that unloveable sank in.

What was he even fighting for anymore? What was the point?

There was no hope left in him anymore.

Calum was fucked - totally and completely fucked. Everything was in ruins around him and he was doomed. Nothing could save him anymore; anyone who tried failed and Calum had given up a very long time ago. There was only misery left now and it was so dark inside his head.

He couldn’t find the way out and there only seemed to be one option left open to him.

He was going to die. He _had_ to die.

That was his only chance of escaping the pain.

"I quit," Calum said and the words felt like the first time he’d taken control of something in _months_ so why did he feel like he was free-falling now?

The silence crashed over the pitch like a tsunami and the weight of it threatened to drive Calum to his knees. The school bell rang distantly and Luke reached out to squeeze Ashton’s hand. Birds circled overhead and a light breeze tousled the short grass.

The world continued to turn.

All Calum could see was Michael.

“Hood?” the coach asked softly but Calum detested the sympathy in his tone; detested the fucking _pity_. The hatred rose inside him like a tornado, twisting and spinning as it tore in every point of light - every good memory of Mali and his mother and his friends - until all Calum had left was pain and fear and hate.

Until he was completely and utterly alone.

Empty.

Maybe it wasn’t a tornado after all. Maybe it was a black hole instead, dragging in every good moment and turning it to something poisonous instead.

Maybe that was all Calum would ever be.

“I quit,” he said and the **CAPTAIN** sweatshirt hung so heavily on his bony shoulders now that he felt like he was being dragged down into the earth… into the grave he seemed so desperate to end up in.

Everyone was standing motionless now, just _staring_ at him like Calum had done something worthy of their notice… but Calum _wasn’t_ worthy. He had never been.

“I quit,” he repeated and his strained voice grew louder with every sentence, until he was shouting at them as they stood frozen around him, too shocked to respond. “I _quit_! I fucking _**quit**_! You can take this fucking sweatshirt and shove it up your –”

“ _Cal_.”

Michael’s lips parted to form his name and Calum was brought up so short that he felt like he had whiplash from it; felt like the older boy had doused him in icy water. Calum’s panic attack was raging inside but his head felt numb again, like all of the emotions rushing out of him in a torrent had left a hollow space behind that was slowly filling with water.

“Think about what you’re _doing_ ,” the older boy pleaded desperately, his voice little more than a whisper. The field was so silent around them that the dark-haired boy felt like Michael had shouted the words and, for just a moment, Calum remembered the first time he’d ever led the team to a victory, back when he was just eleven years old.

Michael had pulled him into the biggest hug when Calum had hurtled towards him, crashing into his best friend like a shooting star, and Michael’s proud smile had been brighter than the sun in that moment.

Michael looked grey now. His reddened eyes were swimming with tears and his arms hung limply by his sides, and Calum could see the blood welling up in the cracks on his sore knuckles even from here.

‘ _I did that to you_ ,’ he thought and the agony washed over him tenderly almost, like the tide as it subtly tightened its grip, preparing to drag him far out to sea where no one could hear him screaming anymore… but the dark-haired boy had long since stopped screaming.

No one had ever come to help.

"I **quit** ," Calum repeated and his hands were shaking badly now, and the self-hatred that burnt through him when his voice cracked felt like his lighter being held against his skin. “I’m _d-done_.”

The sweatshirt slipped off easier than falling asleep and Calum cast it down into the dirt with so much anger that it took his breath away for a moment; the shocking revelation of how _easy_ it was to destroy the last good part of himself remaining.

The silence was deafening now, the breeze growing cooler as it danced across Calum’s exposed skin. He became aware of it slowly, a gradual realisation that he swore stopped his heart beating in his chest. The sweatshirt lay crumpled in the dirt and the short sleeves of Calum’s t-shirt barely came past his shoulders. Goosebumps crawled across his skin.

Everyone could see his cuts.

They could see the hundreds and _hundreds_ of scars carved into Calum’s tanned skin, and there were shocked whispers and cries of dismay coming from the people around him now but all he could focus on was Michael.

The blue-haired boy slumped forwards, his knees hitting the ground hard as his face twisted with agony. He looked like he’d been _stabbed_ and the thought made the nausea in Calum’s stomach twist so violently that he nearly collapsed with the pain of it.

Only the day before Calum had been certain that Michael would never find out just how far he’d fallen and… now he had. Now Calum had nothing left to keep buried. No secrets to hide behind. No shield to hold up against the fire that wanted to consume him.

Calum’s fingernails bit into the torn skin of his ruined wrists but, even when he _twisted_ , the pain wasn’t enough to wake him up from this nightmare. He was still trapped in it.

“ _Cally_ ,” Michael sobbed out and the older boy couldn’t breathe properly now as he slumped forwards into the dirt like a broken puppet, his fingernails curling into the mud. He seemed utterly uncaring of it as he gazed up at Calum like the younger boy was dying right in front of him. “What have you _done_?”

The first step Calum took was shaky and weak but they grew stronger as he backed away; grew faster and more purposeful until he was spinning on his heel to _run_. The faces of people he had once known blurred past him as he wheeled away but Calum barely saw them anymore; he just knew he had to get out - _now_ \- before he dragged anyone else down into the quicksand with him.

He could hear voices raised in panic behind him now; could hear Ashton crying and Luke panicking, and Michael fucking _sobbing_ like his heart had been cut right out of his chest and - and -

 **No**.

Calum couldn’t deal with this anymore. He _couldn’t_.

He was done.

His demons were stronger than he had ever been and they had proved that today. He could feel that vicious, poisonous little voice in his head whispering that it was time to leave now, and Calum knew his demons were looking for an easy kill; he _knew_ it but he didn’t care anymore because… now he thought he was finally ready to let them.

The dark-haired boy was more staggering than running by the time he reached the chainlink fence that edged the playing field but he exerted one last desperate effort as he hooked his fingers through the metal, hauling himself up as quickly as he could, before anyone came after him. The movement stretched the skin of his wrists and split some of the fresher cuts, and the blood welled up and dripped down his arms as his aching muscles screamed in protest, but Calum didn’t slow down. His bruised ribs throbbed when he dragged himself over and landed heavily on the pavement on the other side. His tears were blinding him now.

The little voice in Calum’s head didn’t have to whisper things threateningly anymore because Calum was thinking them himself now. He could picture the stand-off as he gave into them for a moment: saw himself casting aside any defences he had left and opening his arms as he waited for the end.

It felt almost like one of the video games he used to play with Michael and Ashton back when they were kids, and Calum was _weeping_ as he stumbled along beneath the empty grey sky but it probably didn’t matter anymore. No one else was around to witness him falling.

Just the demons inside his head that had been present for so long now.

Calum had finally lost.

Game over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the angstiest fucking thing ever and I’m so ill today so I’m just going to go curl up in a ball and cry now.  
> Love you guys.  
> Hope you liked it <3


	103. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Michael wanted to burn the place to the fucking ground because maybe, just maybe, that might go some small way to showing how torn up he felt inside._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this so much. I’m so unhappy with it and counselling fucked me up tonight and I’m so ill I want to cry, and this feels too similar to Maelstrom but there’s only so many ways I can rewrite this so I hope it’s different enough that you’re not bored of it. I really wanted to get an update out for you tonight.  
> This chapter mirrors Chapter 131 (and takes the place of Chapter 132) in Maelstrom if you wanted to re-read those.  
> Fingers crossed you don’t hate this <3
> 
> P.S. If I missed any mistakes, I'll fix those tomorrow when hopefully I don't feel so shitty. Love you guys.

**_Weep for yourself, my man._ **

**_You'll never be what is in your heart._ **

**_Weep, little lion man._ **

**_You're not as brave as you were at the start._ **

_\- Little Lion Man, Mumford & Sons_

 

Michael had never lost it like this in front of anyone who wasn’t Graham before but he couldn’t hold his pain in anymore. It rose inside him like a tsunami and the agony crashing down over him tore away every wall Michael had built to protect himself.

He was curled up in the dirt with Calum’s sweatshirt clutched to his chest, gripping it so tightly that his fingers were bloodless and his nails throbbed painfully from where he’d cut them too short. His blue hair was falling messily into his eyes and his tears were drying sticky on his cheeks, and Michael must have bitten through his bottom lip although he didn’t remember doing it because the blood was dripping hot down his chin and it was _almost_ as sickening as the mud caked under his nails.

Michael wanted to vomit; wanted to claw a hole in the dirt and crawl into it, and never climb out again. He wanted the world to end because that was how fucking desperately he was hurting right now.

Slowly he became aware of the fact that he was murmuring Calum’s name over and over again, each time more broken sounding than the last as his sobs threatened to tear him to pieces. He couldn’t even work out why exactly he was _crying_ now; didn’t know if it was the shock or the terror or that haunted look in the dark-haired boy's burning eyes before he’d torn himself away from everyone who cared about him. All Michael knew was that it felt like being cleaved apart and he realised, without a single shadow of doubt in his mind, that he would never feel completely whole again after this.

Not if they didn’t get Calum back. Not if they didn’t find a way to _fix_ this.

“Mike,” Ashton said from nearby and his voice was surprisingly gentle, even as the tears ran down his tanned face. “Michael, _please_.”

The blue-haired boy smeared the blood across his cheek in a messy streak when he wiped his face thoughtlessly with the back of his hand and the self-disgust he could feel inside now was almost crippling him as his lip began to throb painfully. Ashton was crying silently as he looked down at him and Michael hated that they were just standing here when Calum was gone.

“We… we need to look for Cal,” Michael choked out but he made no move to stand up from the mud. He didn’t think he was strong enough now and the stares of everyone around them were a physical weight on his shoulders. Behind them, the coach ran off towards the school with a grim expression on his face to report what had happened.

“We need to _find_ him,” Michael whispered and all he could see in his mind’s eye was how horribly **empty** Calum’s face had been in the moments after he quit.

Michael’s shock was making him feel numb now and the tears were rolling down his overheated cheeks silently as he gripped the sweatshirt tighter. All Michael wanted was for someone to look after him then - to make the decisions and promise him that everything was going to be alright - but there was no one there until Luke quietly said: “Let Ash grab his stuff and we can go look for him” and reached for the blue-haired boy's hand.

Michael felt small when he took it and his quiet assent made him feel about five years old; too shy to talk to other people yet… too afraid he’d do something wrong and make them hate him.

Michael had never cared less now.

All he could think of was Calum.

He followed Ashton and Luke slowly across the parched field, stumbling across the muddy ground towards the changing rooms as his heart ached in his chest. He couldn’t believe how fast everything had changed; only yesterday they’d been together, lying entwined on Michael’s bed and… and _now_ -

The realisation hit Michael out of nowhere, the dread trickling slowly over him like rainwater as he choked out a pained noise that caught the other two boys’ attention.

“He wore a shirt,” Michael said and he wanted to cry but the words spilt out of him too chokingly to allow any tears to escape now. All he could see in his head was Calum slapping his hands away when Michael had reached for the hem of his top; the relief saturating Calum’s expression when Michael promised: “ _I won’t look at you if you don’t want me to. I promise._ ” A sob tore out of Michael and he buried his face in the sweatshirt for a moment, inhaling the familiar scent of the dark-haired boy that only made it harder to hold himself together.

“He wouldn’t take his shirt off,” Michael repeated tearfully and Ashton’s expression was one of hollow knowing now as he glanced unhappily at the blond boy. “I didn’t know why,” Michael said but it felt like he should have guessed. “I didn’t _know_.”

“It’s not your fault, Mike,” Luke promised but his reassurances did nothing to assuage the guilt burning like brimstone in Michael’s chest. Luke was holding Ashton closer now and Michael had never felt more alone in his life as he followed them into the empty changing rooms, leaving the rest of the team standing frozen on the field.

The showers were dripping water, and the unpleasant mixture of blood and mud on Michael’s hands cracked when he curled them into fists.

Luke and Ashton looked too calm; Michael could see that now. The pair of them were just holding each other loosely as the tears rolled down their cheeks but there was no shock on their faces; they just looked upset at the way things had turned out.

“You’re not surprised,” Michael realised and the betrayal festering inside him was eating away at his lungs. He couldn’t breathe properly and he felt like he was plummeting; like he was falling endlessly with no hope of anyone ever trying to save him again. His voice was so hollow as the words tripped out of his mouth, and Michael felt like he was going to be sick because the guilt on Luke and Ashton’s faces made him want to fall down now… made him want to break something… made him want to set fire to the whole _school_.

Michael wanted to burn the place to the fucking ground because maybe, just maybe, that might go some small way to showing how torn up he felt inside.

He couldn’t cope. He couldn’t _possibly_ cope with losing someone else today but… but his lip was still bleeding and his skin was crawling, and Michael couldn’t bear to stand here in front of them while they were watching him pityingly like that. He didn’t just want to douse himself in bleach anymore either; he wanted to _drink_ it, if only to stop the hurting for a few blessed moments.

“You both knew,” Michael whispered but it sounded like he was shouting. “You fucking _knew_.”

The terror on Ashton’s face only made Michael angrier; made him want to send his fist smashing into the tiled wall nearby, over and over again, until his knuckles were broken; until the cracks on the porcelain showed how badly he was splintering inside at their deception.

Luke was holding Ashton protectively now, pulling the smaller boy behind his back as he squared his broad shoulders, and Michael was crying again now but he felt sick with fury and he couldn’t even begin to comprehend how betrayed he felt… that they _knew_ this was happening but no one had ever thought to tell him.

Michael fucking **loved** Calum. He _loved_ him and no one had trusted him with the truth.

“I didn’t know _why_ ,” the blue-haired boy choked out and, every time he shut his eyes, all he could see was the sharp cut of Calum’s jaw; the hollow of his cheekbones and the bruise-like circles staining the sallow skin under his eyes as he burnt himself away to nothing. “Calum was aching and fading and withering and fucking _dying_ , and you _knew_ I suspected him not eating but you didn’t tell me about the _cutting_?!”

The words came out jumbled, falling over each other in their struggle to make it out of Michael’s mouth, and the empty changing room seemed to echo with the pain of his shout as Michael’s chest heaved, the breath refusing to fight its way into his lungs.

“How could you _do_ that to me?!” Michael demanded but his voice was weaker now and the tears were burning in his exhausted, burnt-out eyes. “I thought you were my _friends_! You never even fucking _told_ me!”

Ashton pulled away from Luke and the panic he could feel was obvious as he stood there trembling, his expression hopeless and beseeching. Behind him, Luke collapsed down onto one of the benches and buried his tear-streaked face in his hands. The rage coiled tighter in Michael’s chest.

He didn’t care in that moment how long he’d loved Ashton like a brother; how caring and sweet Luke was when he tried to keep everyone happy. Michael knew without a shadow of doubt that he would never speak to them again - no matter _how_ deeply he loved them - if it brought Calum back now, healthy and happy... the way he was _supposed_ to be.

Michael would make that decision in a second.

He’d do anything to help Calum heal. **Anything**.

“Mikey,” Ashton said weakly and the tears were still pouring from his hazel eyes like someone had turned a tap but he seemed to be struggling for composure. “I - I only suspected too until -” He faltered abruptly, perhaps realising that he’d said too much, and the alarm bells were ringing in Michael’s head now when Ashton failed to meet his gaze.

“When did you suspect?” the blue-haired boy demanded and his cheeks were stained hot with blood but his heart felt like it had stopped beating in his chest when he saw something guilty flickering over the curly-haired boy’s face. A low pained sob wrenched its way out of Michael when Ashton simply shook his head slowly, his expression hopeless and almost self-pitying.

Michael saw red.

Calum’s sweatshirt fell to the ground - he didn’t realise he was even still holding it - and Michael slammed Ashton back hard into the lockers. The metallic clang was deafening in the silence and there was a tiny voice in his head screaming at him to stop and insisting that he was worse than his _mother_ if he did this - because Michael loved Ashton; he would probably _always_ love Ashton - but the bigger part of Michael was blind with pain and tears.

“Michael, **_stop it_**!” Luke shouted desperately, lunging forwards and trying his absolute hardest to drag Michael away but the older boy was as immovable as rock as he pinned Ashton there.

The smaller boy’s panic burnt so terribly in his eyes that Michael couldn’t hold his gaze and his breath was punching painfully out of his chest now as he gasped in oxygen, tears leaking down his cheeks, his sobs hopeless. Luke was crying now too, angry desperate tears, and Michael felt like his heart had been crushed and shredded when he screamed out: “ _WHEN_?!”

His grip loosened a little and he sagged as the agony inside him tripled. He prayed Ashton - and Luke by extension - had only had these doubts a few weeks ago… even a _month_ would have been understandable. Michael wouldn’t be able to _forgive_ them but he could understand it but then Ashton opened his mouth and tore everything to pieces.

“Almost…” His words failed him and he choked in a breath, trying again. Luke stiffened beside them. “Almost a year ago.”

Michael froze.

Time seemed to stop and the icy feeling of horror trickled through him slowly, like someone had opened his veins and let everything that made Michael who he was bleed out to pool sickeningly on the ground at his feet. His knees weakened beneath him and the weight of the tragedy he could feel was crushing him to dust.

“A year,” Michael repeated numbly. His face was ashen and he nodded once, like the words made sense. The trembling started slowly at first but the shudders grew more violent as the tears began to race once more through the blood streaking his face, and Michael was shaking so hard he felt like he was going to be torn apart now; felt like he was about to start breathing flame because the abject anguish he could feel smoldering inside him had to escape _somehow_.

Luke was still trying to drag the blue-haired boy away from Ashton but the curly-haired boy was limp in his grip now and Michael thought he might be using Ashton to hold himself up instead. A muscle jumped in his jaw and he exhaled shakily, pressing his lips together bloodlessly as he nodded again.

He wondered how many other people had known - saw the coach’s pained but unsurprised face for a second as his knees almost gave out beneath him - and then the worst thought of all slowly began to infect Michael’s mind like the most excruciating kind of poison.

He remembered that day in Graham’s kitchen for a moment, the day Ashton had got hurt. He remembered finding the nurse crying at the table and hesitating before quietly telling Michael that they’d lost someone at work. At the time Michael had thought something didn’t ring true but he’d let it go. Now though… now there was dread in his heart and he couldn’t breathe past the agony roaring inside him like a snowstorm.

If Graham had betrayed him too then Michael wouldn’t be able to live with it; wouldn’t be able to _cope_ if the nurse had kept this from him but… no.

No, no, no. _Please_ , no.

Graham felt like the last person in the world Michael had left to rely on.

He wouldn’t lie to him. He _wouldn’t_.

“Does my uncle know?”

Luke’s breath caught audibly in his throat as the colour drained out of the curly-haired boy’s face.

“Yes,” Ashton whispered.

Everything was just colours and sounds and **pain** after that: the wrecked cry tearing out of Michael that echoed around the changing rooms; the blood streaming from the curly-haired boy’s nose as it broke under Michael’s fist; the sting of the blue-haired boy’s throbbing knuckles and the blinding ache as Luke punched him squarely across the jaw, sending Michael staggering backwards.

The world stopped spinning quite so frantically when his back slammed into the wall and a wrecked sound tore out of Michael when he realised what he’d done; when he felt the adrenaline coursing through him like electricity as his tears blinded him.

“ _Don’t fucking touch him_!” Luke warned but his face was blotchy and there was self-loathing in his eyes as he glanced down at his bruised knuckles, his breath punching out of him in a little cry. The blond boy dragged his boyfriend into his arms and Ashton sobbed into his neck, smearing blood on the taller boy’s collar as Luke shushed him gently, stroking his honey-coloured curls and dropping damp, tear-wet kisses onto Ashton’s forehead.

Luke was staring at the blue-haired boy like he’d gone insane.

Michael wondered if he had.

He couldn’t think anymore. He couldn’t even _breathe_ because his stomach had just lurched sickeningly and -

 _Oh god, oh god, oh god_.

Michael clapped his hand over his mouth desperately - his muddy, blood-stained, _filthy_ hand - and he barely made it to the bathroom in time, kicking the door shut blindly behind him as he half-threw himself into the nearest stall. He was violently ill, his stomach convulsing painfully as he was sick in the shadowy, cramped space, and Michael’s forehead was throbbing when he let his head smack hard into the cool porcelain of the tiled wall afterwards. He felt like he was dying; like everything that made him who he was had been taken when Calum ran away -

And Graham had known something was badly wrong.

Graham had betrayed him.

Michael drew his knees up to his chest, gripping them tightly as he buried his face in them and cried. The tears dried up quickly, leaving his eyelids swollen and sore from how aggressively he’d been wiping them. The skin on his hands was itching again and, finally, Michael had had enough.

He pushed himself up stiffly from the cold floor, gripping his stomach hard as a cramp rippled through him and struggling not to cry again as he staggered over to the sinks. He washed his face and his hands until the skin was rubbed raw; until his blue hair was sticking to his damp forehead; until his knuckles bled into the water like gristly flowers and the tear in his heart felt less raw.

He was probably only washing his hands for a few minutes but it felt like a lifetime as the icy water numbed him, and the bathrooms were damp and disgusting but Michael couldn’t bring himself to leave the silent room quite yet. He felt like all of the life had bled out of him now and he was utterly on his own… too lonely to even brave crossing the room now.

Everyone he loved was gone.

His common sense returned slowly and Michael’s dread made his heart feel heavy as he wondered whether Luke and Ashton were even still here. Michael wouldn’t blame them if they’d left him. He thought he understood why Luke had looked so wrecked after he’d hit him now - probably he’d felt the same way Michael did, panicking about turning into his abusive parent as every terrible thing he had suffered became a possibility again - and Michael hated that Luke was hurting like that… hated that he’d been desperate enough to defend Ashton with his fists and that the blue-haired boy must have made Luke feel _that_ helpless.

Michael’s jaw was aching painfully now but all he could think of was the awful way he’d punched Ashton in the face as the smaller boy’s blood spurted over his fist.

Michael’s skin crawled and he washed his hands again; over and over until he was crying weakly… until he heard the soft sound of murmuring coming from the other room and identified it as Luke trying to comfort Ashton.

They hadn’t left him. They were still _here_.

Michael tried not to see his reflection in the mirror as he slowly crossed the room; tried not to see how grey his skin looked or how limp his hair was against his forehead; how sweaty and weak he was; how red the crying had made his eyes. Michael couldn’t live like this anymore. He _couldn’t_.

The door creaked open loudly when he pushed against it and already Michael was sobbing; the fear of abandonment so intense that he felt like he was going to crumble to pieces when the two boys outside stiffened visibly, only holding each other tighter.

“I’m sorry,” Michael croaked and the grief he could feel was monumental now; the misery thick enough that it felt like he had to wade through it as he came to a pathetic stop in front of them. He began to cry harder. “I’m _sorry_.”

Luke wouldn’t look at him, keeping his blue eyes fixed stubbornly on his boyfriend’s bruised nose although the tears were leaking down Luke’s flushed cheeks. Michael knew he was listening though; could see it in the way the blond boy angled his head subtly towards Michael.

Ashton had no such qualms. He was still the kind, wide-eyed, forgiving boy that Michael had met all those years ago.

He gazed at the blue-haired boy like his heart was tearing itself apart in his chest and Michael could see the guilt again now but he’d misunderstood it before, in his anger and his pain. They hadn’t kept this from him to be cruel or unkind, and maybe the same could be said for Graham. Maybe they’d done it to try and protect him instead.

Michael felt like he was drowning, more lost and hopeless than he’d ever been in his life, but then Luke looked up at him sharply at the sound of the older boy’s sob and he was still wearing Michael’s _sweatshirt_ , and the blue-haired boy’s knees hit the cold floor hard as a wrecked sob tore out of him.

“I’ve already lost Calum,” Michael gasped out brokenly and he was almost tearing his hair out now but none of it mattered except the grudging forgiveness in Luke’s face; the muted love in Ashton’s eyes. “I can’t lose you two too,” Michael whispered and he felt like his tears were drowning him now as he sobbed, curling in on himself like he was afraid he was going to get ripped apart. “I _can’t_.”

The tension in the room reached breaking point and, after possibly the longest second of Michael’s life, Ashton reached out for him shakily, his hand smeared with blood and his hazel eyes brimming with tears.

“ _Mikey_ ,” the curly-haired boy choked out as he opened his arms and Michael collapsed against him like his body had finally given up on him. Luke looked angry as he gazed down at them but his arms still wrapped warmly around Michael’s shoulders and the blue-haired boy didn’t know what he’d done right to deserve friends like them.

Everything felt like it was breaking apart around him and he just… couldn’t deal with it anymore.

With Calum gone, Michael had lost his reason to keep fighting and, with a horrible inkling of dread, the blue-haired boy began to wonder if perhaps he knew _exactly_ where Calum had ran to.

The bridge… with its dizzying height and deep, freezing water stretching out below as the vehicles tore past on their way out of the city. The thought of it set panic coiling tightly in his chest as he recalled how much Calum had loved driving over it back when they were kids in the passenger seats of their parents’ cars.

Michael didn’t love the bridge at all. He was _terrified_ of it now and he hated the absolute certainty he felt as he remembered the cuts scarring Calum’s arms. The worst part was that Michael was pretty sure Calum would _do_ it now too; would just throw himself into nothing because the pain was too much to cope with anymore.

Michael only hoped they wouldn’t be too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this is really bad.  
> Thank you for reading - if you didn't hate it, I'd really appreciate hearing what you thought. <3


	104. The End Of Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _There was so much Calum had to let go of in order to stop existing and it shocked him how badly it hurt to sift through the memories as his muscles slowly began to go numb in the freezing weather. The rain ran down his cut arms like tears and the dark-haired boy exhaled heavily as he finally stopped fighting._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! It's finally here...  
> I pretty much just listened to sad music and cried while writing this so I hope you guys appreciate my suffering! For real though, this is fucking horrible. Like, it was so much harder than I thought it would be to write because Calum is my fucking **baby** and I just… wrote this.  
>  It was meant to be a short chapter too. Oops.  
> Also if anyone notices the reference I made to something Calum actually wrote in real life, I’ll be really happy about that because it's beautiful (if slightly heartbreaking).  
> Fingers crossed you'll enjoy this...

**_I don’t wanna die._ **

**_I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all._ **

_\- Bohemian Rhapsody, Queen_

 

Calum’s feet pounded on the pavement, his football boots scraping against the concrete. Seventy steps and he’d reached the end of the road that ran beside the school playing fields. The clouds churned angrily overhead, grey and murky as the late afternoon sun sank behind the buildings. The slivers of sky between the clouds were as red as blood.

Two hundred more steps and the wind had picked up, roaring across the concrete landscape of downtown Sydney. Calum staggered past shops he’d visited since he was a child; crashed into pedestrians and dog walkers and kids coming home from school, and noticed none of them.

Two thousand more steps and he was jaywalking in front of slowly-approaching bus as his heart began to pound achingly in his chest once more. The cuts on his uncovered arms looked livid beneath the spilt-paint-water chaos of the sky and his breath tore out of him raggedly as he clutched at the stitch in his side, still running like he was never going to stop.

Nine hundred more steps and Calum could see it in the distance: the bridge that led out of Sydney. The street lights were beginning to blink on around him now and Calum pushed himself on, so focused on his destination that he forgot the demons chasing him for a moment; forgot the agony of everything that had driven him to this because the physical pain of his body was almost worse.

He felt like he was about to drop down dead but he knew it didn’t matter anymore; he hadn’t been alive for a very long time anyway. He’d just been trying to make it to the next day, always focusing on tomorrow… not living but _waiting_... waiting for something that, up until now, Calum hadn’t been sure of.

He felt a sick jolt in his stomach when he realised that everything had been leading to this.

He’d been waiting for his own end.

Calum wasn’t sure he was properly equipped to deal with that realisation but he fought against his fear anyway as his pounding feet slowed to cover the last three hundred steps. Pedestrians weren’t encouraged to walk on the bridge and Calum had to scramble over a low metal barrier to reach the narrow strip of pavement that provided relative safety from the traffic, the déjà vu of it reminding him of the last time he’d been here, back when he’d nearly fallen by mistake… but Calum wasn’t going to make a mistake this time.

Death felt like the only thing left that he wouldn’t regret. He wouldn’t be _able_ to feel remorse because he would already be gone and the finality of it hit Calum like a brick to the head as he half-fell to rest against the higher metal barrier separating the road from the dizzying drop on the other side.

He’d ran miles to get here and he was exhausted now, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, his stomach twisting painfully as he shivered at how cold his exposed skin was. He huddled closer to the barrier he was leaning against, making sure he was in one of the shadowy places between the street lights spread out on the bridge. The last thing he needed was some concerned driver stopping to try and talk him out of what he was about to do. There was no point in people telling him to stay strong and keep fighting because Calum had already lost the fight.

His story was over now, and it didn’t matter how terrified he was at the prospect of finally finishing things once and for all because he knew this was what he was meant to do.

He could feel it in his bones now and the little voice in his head was saying: “This is it” and Calum knew it was the truth because there was a strange atmosphere on the bridge tonight; a crackling energy in the air that made him feel like anything could happen; a wild restless sort of feeling that set the adrenaline roaring through Calum’s veins like a forest fire.

His heart felt like it had already stopped beating in his chest when he wrapped his fingers warily around the metal barrier, heaving himself up with a squared jaw and dark eyes burning with tears as he perched on top of it, his fingers curled around the rusting metal tightly as his feet swung over the abyss.

It reminded him of that day in the park for a moment; the smoke in his lungs and the climbing frame he had been sitting on before Michael arrived, saying those words that had killed something soft in Calum’s chest: “You deserve someone who can **love** you”... because Michael **didn’t** love him. He never had and neither had anyone else. Not _really_.

Calum was better off gone and he knew it was the truth.

Everyone would be happier that way: Michael and Aleisha could move on, Ashley could heal without distraction, Ashton and Luke could focus on fixing each other, Mali could stop worrying about her fucked up little brother and make it work with Harry, and Joy wouldn’t have any reason to stay with David. She could run away and never get hurt by him again… not like last night when everything had been torn apart… not when it had been Calum’s _fault_ and… fuck, he didn’t even know if he was scared of suicide anymore. He just knew that he was _much_ more terrified of what would happen to him - and to the people he loved - if he failed tonight.

The rain began to fall slowly as Calum sat there, his fingers slowly going numb on the cool metal as his bones ached in protest. He was freezing now and he wished he’d brought a coat, even as a tiny bubble of hysterical laughter ripped its way out him as he imagined that scenario: ‘ _I’m going to kill myself now; let me just grab my jacket_.’ It was a ridiculous thought and he wondered if Ashley would find it funny for a moment before he remembered the situation, and the stupid smile died on his lips.

Again, Calum found himself wondering how he could have fallen so far without noticing.

The rain was pouring harder now but at least it hid the tears that were gliding smoothly down his cheeks and Calum was grateful for that. He didn’t want to cry now; hated how **human** it made him feel as he leant further out, squinting down through the ever-darkening shadows as he tried to calculate how high the bridge was over the water in an effort to distract himself. It had to be two hundred metres at least and the nausea inside was rapidly turning to panic now because Calum had ran that distance in sports days for as long as he could remember but it had never seemed so terrifying before.

He was still dwelling on this when he slipped from the damp metal he’d been balanced on. His heart shot into his throat and the only thing that saved him was his feet jarring painfully down onto the wrong side of the metal barrier where it jutted out a little to make room for the bolts holding it in place. Calum’s heart was thrumming like a hummingbird now and the breath escaped his lungs harshly, like the organs were bellows breathing shadows into the poisonous darkness inside.

Abruptly, Calum remembered why he had come here and he felt the icy awareness of it bleeding through his system like nicotine as his head spun with how weak he was. His fingers itched for a cigarette and he wished he had one left, even as he found it strange that _this_ was where his mind went as he stood there contemplating the end of everything.

Everything felt clearer now, like the sudden terror had allowed him to see the world in sharper focus. He felt like everything he was thinking had been laid out in the shadowy nothingness in front of him, as bare as his bones where they lay scraped raw beneath the thin membrane of his skin. He became aware of his heart working overtime as he hung there; felt his pulse rocketing through his veins and the tears burning in his eyes as his stomach twisted itself into knots. His nerves screamed at the cold and his fingers ached with how tightly he was holding on, and he found it ironic that he had probably never felt this alive before.

Calum was scared to die but he was more scared of staying alive because the pain of surviving was so much worse. Death was just easier; a quick-fix to so many problems that Calum had lost count of them now: his father wishing he had never been born and trying to kill him; his mum tearing herself apart worrying about him as David beat her half to death; Mali running away and saying that she was never, _ever_ coming back; Aleisha breaking down over everything they could have been, and everything they would never be; Ashley falling for him when he was too fucked up to even consider _trying_ to make them work; Ashton blaming himself and Luke trying to keep everyone together when it was completely impossible; and Michael… Michael with his grey face and his dying eyes, and the blood welling on his knuckles… Michael who the dark-haired boy had sucked the life out of and left as a hollow shell instead.

Calum had tried to save himself by hiding inside Michael once but all he’d succeeded in doing was dragging them _both_ down to hell. All Calum ever managed to do was hurt the older boy and that was why he _knew_ this had to be the end of it tonight. The end of everything.

He would make this same decision again in a heartbeat.

The tears were falling again, the sobs wracking his body weakly but Calum barely felt them now. He already missed Michael so much he ached but it wasn’t fair to keep doing this; to keep darting in to bite at the older boy; to rip away another bloody chunk before he escaped again, leaving Michael bleeding out on the ground behind him. Calum wondered how he had become a hunting dog without realising it before it slowly dawned on him that perhaps that was something he’d picked up from David.

The idea alone was enough to make Calum want to throw himself off the bridge now because, fuck, if _that_ was how his life was going to be - if he was going to turn into his _father_ \- then Calum didn’t want to live anyway. He didn't _deserve_ to and he knew no one would fight him on it either.

Everyone else had already given up on him so it made sense that Calum was going to give up too.

He had nothing left to hold onto but old photographs and song lyrics that he’d forgotten the tune of, and that thought inexplicably reminded him of the night Mali had finally told him she was leaving; the pictures scattered out over his bedspread and the song playing in the background: ‘ _I’m always ready to die but you’re killing me_.’

There was so much Calum had to let go of in order to stop existing and it shocked him how badly it hurt to sift through the memories as his muscles slowly began to go numb in the freezing weather. The rain ran down his cut arms like tears and the dark-haired boy exhaled heavily as he finally stopped fighting. There was no point holding back anymore. None.

The memories didn’t flash before Calum’s eyes like they did in the books or films. He had to think about them carefully instead; had to methodically search for them as he took apart all of the defences he had built to hide them. He knew he was taking too much time - knew he should have just jumped the moment he got here, before he had time to talk himself out of it - but it felt wrong to leave without thinking of these things just once more; felt like running away without saying goodbye almost.

A watery smile touched his lips as he remembered that one summer almost four years ago when he and Ashton had managed to persuade Michael to go to the football try-outs. Calum remembered Michael making them buy him maltesers and promising to pet his hair whenever they watched films afterwards to make up for all of the exercise he’d had to do on that one solitary lunch-time.

Calum remembered watching Mali dancing with stars in his eyes; remembered thinking she was the most beautiful, talented person he’d ever seen, and wishing he knew how to be that perfect. He remembered watching Black Swan with her and sneaking out with her to the cinema, and stealing the alcohol from her room when she made Calum promise to cover for her on the evenings when she snuck out partying with her friends.

He remembered dancing with Luke that day in the basement before the sickness had crept back in just like it always did; remembered the music and the lightheartedness and the joy that moment of friendship had brought him.

He remembered Aleisha and Ashley with their laughter and their music; the cigarettes and the weed, and the nail varnish and the terrible films, and how deeply he adored them both. He remembered the kisses he’d shared with Aleisha and that night over the fire with Ashley as her words burnt away to ash in the dark night air.

He remembered the pride he felt when he was made football captain and the coach handed him his very own sweatshirt with his surname plastered across the back because it was the only time he ever remembered his dad smiling at him. (He’d worn that sweatshirt continuously for almost two weeks afterwards, desperate to earn another smile from David, but it never happened). He even remembered his first kiss at some shitty party with a girl whose name he couldn’t remember anymore when he was just thirteen (although that was only his first if he didn’t count the night he’d been dared to kiss Michael back when they were both twelve). He remembered Violet’s soft eyes and that stupid song they’d been made to listen to in science class, and Calum’s laugh sounded like a sob as the tears rolled hot down his hollow cheeks, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as his mind went even further back.

He remembered older moments; remembered the first time he ever met Ashton back when they were just starting year three and year four respectively. He remembered the older boy’s wide hazel eyes - the way he used to squint a little bit because his mum couldn’t afford glasses - and the dimples that used to crease his cheeks on those rare occasions when Calum piped up with a silly joke to make him giggle, back when they were both shy because Michael hadn’t coaxed them out of their shells yet.

Calum remembered even earlier than that though; he remembered when the Cliffords moved into the house two doors down, back when Calum was just five years old. He remembered the golden-haired boy trotting out of the car with a Game Boy in one hand and a toy cat in the other, and the way his mischievous green eyes immediately alighted on Calum when he saw the dark-haired boy gawping at him through his bedroom window.

Calum felt the years passing like sheets drifting gently over his body as he remembered all of the times he’d seen Michael standing beneath his window since that first moment he lay eyes on him.

He remembered when they were five years old and he saw Michael waiting for him in the driveway, dressed in his new too-big uniform with his dad hanging back nervously. Calum remembered Michael’s nervous expression but the way a broad, happy smile spread across his face when the younger boy raced downstairs to show Michael his own uniform, both of them terrified but excited for their first day in year one.

He remembered when they were nine and the golden-haired boy invited him round to play Mario Kart, much to their parents’ disapproval because they didn’t seem to get on. Calum remembered Michael’s scruffy Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt and the scabs on his knees that showed under his soft stripy shorts, and how cheeky he looked when he grinned at Calum after the dark-haired boy got frustrated at how _impossible_ Rainbow Road was.

He remembered when they were eleven and Calum climbed out of the window onto the porch roof because he was trying to show off to the older boy, only to succeed in spraining his ankle instead. (Not that this was the worst turn of events because Michael sat with him on the front lawn afterwards and shared his sweets while Calum held an ice pack to his leg, and they talked about Tamagotchis and their favourite songs, and all of the places they wanted to travel to one day, and Calum thought he might have fallen a little bit in love with his best friend that day because the sun shone down on his hair like molten gold and Michael smiled like his mouth was full of secrets).

He remembered when they were thirteen and Calum snuck out for the first time, following Michael to a party that he’d somehow managed to get himself invited to because, even back then, there had been something charismatic about the golden-haired boy that had made Calum’s mouth go dry at the thought, although at the time he had written it off as admiration.

Calum remembered the homework sessions and the sleepovers, and those stupid dare games with Ashton where Calum and Michael kissed each other “just to see what it was like” while being locked in the cupboard under the stairs, because it was pitch black in there and nothing that happened in the dark counted.

It was dark now though and Calum’s heart felt like it was trying to pound out a lifetime of beats in the short time he had left because fuck, Calum remembered **everything**.

Those were the memories he wanted to take with him.

Not the darker ones that came later but the ones where he felt happy and safe and **loved**... the way he would never feel again.

There was no moon tonight and the sky was a blackish-blue overhead now, the colour of the bruises on Calum’s ribs from where David had pushed him down the stairs. A car horn blared as it drove past and Calum flinched at the icy spray of water raining over him.

It felt hard to believe that this was it now.

The end of Calum’s story.

He couldn’t do it anymore; couldn’t bear to watch the smiles die on the faces of the people he loved. He’d already almost ruined Michael and, when Calum thought about it like that, he knew what he must have realised deep down all along: there was no other solution.

He couldn’t prolong it anymore.

He had spent so much time wishing he didn’t exist and now he finally had the chance.

This was the right thing to do. It _was_.

He just had to be brave, for the first time in his pathetic cowardly existence.

He had no reason to stay anymore. The person he was most worried about leaving was Michael but… but the life would come back to him and he would carry on. He would survive and he would learn to be happy again. Calum knew that now.

Michael would move on and fall in love with another brain - another soul - and Calum would always be there waiting if he didn’t do this tonight. He would be left behind… unable to move on.

He just hoped, selfishly, that maybe Michael’s children would know his name one day. Maybe their years of friendship wouldn’t be wasted. Maybe Calum wouldn’t be completely forgotten by the one he loved with his whole heart.

It was easier to be rational now - if anything about this situation could _ever_ be called rational. It just… it made _sense_ that Michael had never really loved him, didn’t it? Calum had never loved himself either so how could he expect that from someone else? How could he blame Michael? How could he blame _anyone_ who had ever claimed to love him, only to eventually leave?

Calum had been running away from himself for years after all… only, how could you run from nothing? It wasn’t _possible_ and that was why he’d never managed to escape the agony.

Calum was nothing. He had **always** been nothing and he always would be.

David was right.

No amount of running would ever make him whole. He would never, ever be desired or loved or even _liked_ now. He was too fucking broken.

Calum destroyed everything he touched and there was only one way to fix that. He knew it now. The truth of it resonated within him like the toll of funeral bells and Calum’s fingers slowly started to uncurl from the metal until it was only his feet balanced on the narrow outcrop of the barrier keeping him there.

All he had to do now was find the courage to take one small step forwards into empty air.

Everything in him was screaming that now was the right time, while his heart was racing and his tears were spilling, and he felt _alive_.

He wondered why that one little step felt so hard to take.

He wondered if anyone would care when he was gone.

He wondered if anyone would even _notice_.

The pain was burning him alive now and there was no mercy for someone as broken as he was.

He took a deep breath as the tears boiled relentlessly down his cheeks.

He just needed it all to be over now.

Calum closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> If you don't hate me too much, I'd love to hear what you thought <3


	105. Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _In that moment, Michael didn’t care that the rain was pelting down like bullets as the wind howled so strongly that it clawed at his clothes. Michael didn’t even care that there were four lanes of traffic separating them, roaring past dangerously fast as the night sky darkened overhead and his panic drained him. All Michael cared about was Calum._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this isn't very good. I've had two panic attacks today and I'm more anxious than I've been in a long time which might explain why I've potentially missed some mistakes in this chapter. (If there are any, I'll fix them tomorrow.)  
> Fingers crossed you enjoy it and I'm sorry if it's not good :(

**_I'd rather crash, I'd rather crawl,_ **

**_Than never have your love at all._ **

**_With only bricks to break my fall,_ **

**_For you, I'd risk it all._ **

_\- Risk It All, The Vamps_

 

Calum looked small when they found him.

The sky was almost black overhead and the rain was coming down in sheets as the wind howled. Michael’s anxiety gnawed inside him like a hungry dog and he knew, without a shadow of doubt in his mind, that he had never been this frightened before.

He’d felt useless on the way here, running as fast as he could through the commuters with Luke and Ashton trailing behind him as a constant mantra of: ‘ _What if I’m wrong? What if he’s not here? What if I’m too late?_ ’ whirled around his head like a storm.

When Michael saw Calum clinging to the wrong side of the safety barrier with tears rolling down his face, any hopes he might have been harbouring about Calum only running here to clear his thoughts went out the window. Michael’s horror froze him to the spot and, when Ashton stumbled into him from behind, it was only Luke grabbing the back of Michael’s jumper that kept him from stumbling in front of a car.

“ _No_ ,” Michael breathed and the pain of failure was all he could feel now because even trying his best hadn’t been enough to save the younger boy. **Michael** hadn’t been enough.

First he’d failed Ashton back at the nightclub and now he was failing Calum. He thought it made sense that his mother had always been ashamed of him. Why was Michael never good enough for the people he loved?

When Calum’s loose grip on the metal barrier slipped so that he was simply balancing on the very edge of the narrow outcrop, Michael’s nerves felt like they had been set on fire beneath his skin as his heart juddered in his chest, torn cleanly in two. The dark-haired boy was shivering violently as the rain soaked him, so broken that he was barely clinging to life anymore. Michael couldn’t believe they’d come to this.

He stepped closer, the magnetic pull of Calum still strong even now, and Ashton stumbled dangerously beside him. Luke hauled the curly-haired boy frantically back to safety and a lump rose in the blue-haired boy’s throat as he noticed the exchange because there was no one to do that for Calum now… so Michael would do it instead. He wouldn’t fail the dark-haired boy again. Never again.

Calum’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut now and Michael could see how badly he was crying; how tight his gaunt face was with fear as he stood suspended there over the water. Michael saw the moment when Calum started to lean forwards and his heart shuddered to a stop in his chest because none of this made any _sense_ anymore.

Michael had read books and watched films where people committed suicide like this but… but those people had shining tear-tracks on their rosy cheeks and beautiful parting words to share, and there was always something melancholy and beautiful about those scenes. Michael had never realised it before but they were the furthest thing from the truth that he’d ever experienced because… fuck, because this was **Calum**... _his_ Calum; his beautiful chocolate-eyed boy with dimples and thick curls, who used to kick footballs around for fun and share his ice cream with Michael; who used to hold his hand at sleepovers and moan at him when he wouldn’t do his homework; who made Michael feel **whole** , even when the pain of not being able to love him properly had threatened to tear them both to pieces.

There was nothing beautiful about this moment except the dark-haired boy himself and Michael hated the films for glorifying this; for making him think that this reality could ever be anything _but_ brutal. Calum’s eyes were red with tears and his nose was running as his thinning hair stuck to his rain-wet forehead, and he was crying so much he was heaving now, barely able to breathe as the sobs tore their way through him like he was being attacked.

Michael had never wanted to hold Calum more than he did in that moment but the dark-haired boy seemed to be steeling himself for the drop and it wouldn’t take much at all before gravity did the rest, and Michael didn’t come this far just to fail now. While there was breath left in his body, he wouldn’t let this happen.

“Don’t you dare!” Michael shouted desperately and Calum flinched, stiffening visibly as his hands flew back to grip the metal barrier after he almost overbalanced. Michael’s relief was enormous but he tried to remind himself that this wasn’t solved yet; that they’d only postponed what, judging by the hollowness in the younger boy’s eyes, seemed inevitable. Calum had turned on the narrow outcrop to look at him now and Michael hated how empty his face was; hated how his eyes burnt dully from his sunken face as the tears boiled down his gaunt cheeks.

“Calum Hood!” Michael yelled and his voice sounded weak even to his own ears because he didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do; he just knew he had to keep talking. While Calum was focused on him, he wasn’t thinking about killing himself. “What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?!"

Calum’s huff of laughter was punched out of him, the sound empty and watery as he gave this helpless little shrug. He looked like he was right out of strength now; like he was about to fall down whether he wanted to or not. Michael could see the younger boy shaking more violently, his bony shoulders hunched up like he was freezing, his dark eyes leaking tears as his chest started to heave with panic.

In that moment, Michael didn’t care that the rain was pelting down like bullets as the wind howled so strongly that it clawed at his clothes. Michael didn’t even care that there were four lanes of traffic separating them, roaring past dangerously fast as the night sky darkened overhead and his panic drained him. All Michael cared about was Calum clinging to the metal barrier, his grip weakening, his pain pouring out of him in tears as he wept.

Nothing else mattered but him.

Nothing else had _ever_ mattered but Calum.

The dark-haired boy let out a panicked cry when Michael ran into the road without warning, his expression determined although his eyes were terrified. Horns blared around him and he came to a staggering stop on the central reservation, clutching at a stitch in his side as a lorry hurtled past so dangerously close that the blue-haired boy was splattered with dirty water from the road.

“ _Michael_!” Luke screamed, his hand flying to his mouth in shock as Ashton sagged against him, his face ashen as he clutched at his chest in his panic, his tears boiling down his face. Michael looked badly shaken but he steeled himself as he judged distances and then charged across the last two lanes, coming to a slumped stop on the other side of the barrier as Calum stared at him in appalled silence.

The dark-haired boy hated that he’d just caused Michael to do something so reckless and stupid. The blue-haired boy was openly panicking but he was staring at Calum with such blazing relief on his pale face, and the dark-haired boy hated so badly that he’d managed to hurt someone as pure as Michael.

Calum could feel his control of the situation slipping away now and he couldn’t stand that, even after everything that had happened, he couldn’t do this right. He couldn’t do _anything_ right.

Michael dragged himself to his feet and simply stood there silently in front of Calum for a long time, his hands covering Calum’s over the cold barrier, his bottom lip bitten sore and bloody as he gazed at the younger boy with burning eyes, the green fiery with love and **life**. Calum didn’t remember what that was like now. He didn’t _want_ to.

The dark-haired boy was crying harder, unable to stop himself because, fuck, Michael had risked everything time and time again to be with him, and Calum was so close to just letting himself fall… to just ending this once and for all.

“Cal,” Michael breathed and his voice was so soft, so gentle… like he was afraid the younger boy was about to break. There were tears rolling down Calum’s cheeks and he could feel his face twisting with the sobs; knew he must have looked disgusting but Michael was staring at him so lovingly that it took Calum’s breath away.

A choked sound escaped the dark-haired boy and he shuddered at the cold, too weak to hold on almost. Michael’s pale hand was trembling when it curled gently around his scarred wrist, anchoring him there, and the younger boy couldn’t stop himself from falling apart at the sight of Michael’s sore hand touching his cuts. He hated how comforting it felt; knew he couldn’t let this continue.

He had to end things now, before this got any harder.

“Calum, please don’t,” Michael whispered, almost like he could tell what the younger boy was thinking, and Calum fought down on his love and hope because he was _poison_ , and Michael deserved someone whole.

The older boy was gripping the barrier with his free hand now, his fingers curled around the metal _just_ as tightly as Calum was holding it and he was trying not to let touching it panic him because his own feelings had never mattered less in the face of the younger boy’s grief.

Calum was gazing at him now, his face still just as empty, his dark eyes turmoiled and so beautiful that Michael could barely breathe past the lump in his throat. He felt like Calum was waiting for him to speak but he didn’t know what to say now that he’d braved the traffic to reach him. Nothing felt like it would ever be enough.

“We’ll get you help,” Michael said hopefully, because that felt like the sort of thing you were supposed to say in this situation. “You’re not on your own,” he added gently, thinking of himself, and Ashton and Luke, and Calum’s friends Aleisha and Ashley, and Mali and Graham, and the coach and everyone _else_ who had ever been lucky enough to meet the wonderful boy. “We _care_ about you,” Michael murmured and Calum’s tears burned hotter down his face now.

“Please don’t do this,” Michael whispered and his free hand drifted to hold Calum’s shoulder for a moment, his palm warm through the younger boy’s soaking wet t-shirt. He was shaking so badly, felt like a frightened animal almost, and Michael wanted to cry that his very best friend had been reduced to this.

“ _Please_ ,” Michael begged and he didn’t care that he was crying now; didn’t care that anyone driving past could see him falling apart by the side of the road because this was undoubtedly the most important moment of his life so far. “You can't take yourself away from us - from _me_ ,” he said helplessly, almost a last ditch attempt before he did something else reckless. “I need you too bad."

Calum’s shoulders slumped like he was already in his grave and Michael was just shovelling the dirt over him. He was shaking his head so slowly that the movement was almost unnoticeable, like the words were running off him with the rain.

“Just let me go,” Calum whispered, his voice too low to break now. Michael’s heart gave a panicked jolt in his chest as he realised that his words weren’t going to be enough.

“You’re not doing this alone,” Michael said shakily as he dried his hands on his jeans before gripping the barrier, trying to calculate the best way to scramble over without sending both of them tumbling to their deaths. “CalumAndMichael, right?” he asked, trying to sound calmer than he felt as he hooked his leg over and tried not to slide off. “Through it all.”

“Through it all,” Calum chokingly repeated but he was staring at Michael like he was insane now, like he hadn’t _really_ expected the older boy to do something this dangerous. Michael almost slipped when he reached the other side, one of his feet sliding off the outcrop and sending him pitching forwards as his heart lurched sickeningly in his chest, and it was only Calum’s hand wrapping iron-tight around his arm that kept him anchored there.

Michael’s pulse was thundering in his ears and he felt quite a lot like he was about to be sick when he glanced down unwillingly, his eyes following the distance he would have fallen if Calum hadn’t been there to save him. The water was so, _so_ far below them and it looked inky black now; Michael knew hitting it from this distance would be like hitting concrete.

They’d have no chance at all and he found himself crossing his fingers behind his back as Calum helped him get his balance again, praying that the dark-haired boy would make it off this bridge alive tonight.

Calum was staring at Michael in blind panic now, one hand still gripping the barrier while the other was most likely pressing bruises into Michael’s pale skin but… fuck, Calum wasn’t about to let go of him when the older boy had just slipped that badly. Calum was terrified because Michael was so soft and fragile, and there was something so intrinsically **wrong** about seeing him in this position now.

“What are you _doing_ , Mikey?!” Calum demanded, his voice tight with panic as Michael finally gripped the barrier tightly enough that Calum felt safe in loosening his grip on the older boy’s arm. The rain was pounding down harder now and the howling wind made it hard to hear. “Go back! It’s not _safe_!”

“Exactly!” Michael cried, his eyelashes spiky with tears as he gazed at Calum imploringly, the pain on his face fierce as his eyes burnt with urgency. “It’s _not_ safe, Cal, and I’m not letting you do this alone!” He thought of how empty the younger boy looked sometimes; remembered that day on Ashton’s grandparents’ sofa when Calum sobbed brokenly in his arms. “I’m not letting you do _anything_ alone!”

Despite how dangerously slippery it was, Michael dropped the barrier with one hand and reached to cup Calum’s cheek, his palm sliding on the tear-wet skin, his own eyes welling up as he stared at Calum with desperation.

“You’ll never be on your own again,” Michael promised and Calum’s face crumpled because he wanted to believe it so, _so_ badly but he knew it wasn’t true; knew Michael just didn’t want him to kill himself because he’d feel guilty… because maybe _he_ was remembering that little boy he first saw through the window when they were five years old too.

“Why can’t you just let me _die_ , Mike?!” Calum tried to shout but his voice cracked and he just sounded weak, and more tired than he ever had in his life. Michael’s tears boiled down his cheeks and the pain in his chest felt raw now but he was never going to give up.

“Because you don’t really _want_ to, Cal!” the older boy argued but his eyes were still loving and Calum wished Michael didn’t know him better than he knew himself. “Because I can see it in your eyes that you’re _terrified_ and you just want to feel loved!”

Michael was breathing heavily when he broke off for a moment and, when he spoke again, his voice was so much softer than before as the words carved themselves agonisingly into Calum’s heart. “And you _are_ loved, Calum,” Michael said gently, earnestly. His eyes were sparkling with tears and he was still the most beautiful person Calum had ever seen. “Ashton and Luke love you. Mali loves you…” Calum’s heart was beating too fast in his chest and he could see Michael steeling himself, his bottom lip welling blood when his teeth sank into it anxiously, his pale cheeks blotchy with anxiety.

“ _ **I**_ love you,” Michael whispered and Calum’s sob sounded like it had been clawed from him as he doubled up in pain, his hands starting to slip from the barrier before Michael reached to knot his fingers in the back of the younger boy’s t-shirt.

“Stop _lying_!” Calum screamed at him but he was blind with tears now. He wanted so badly to just let himself fall but then Michael might fall too and that was never, _ever_ allowed.

“It’s _true_!” the older boy cried desperately, looking panic stricken because he seemed to realise that nothing he ever said was going to convince Calum otherwise. Michael pushed on regardless, even as his tears started to choke him and his vision went blurry. “I love you so much that it _terrifies_ me but not saying it back was the stupidest decision I ever _made_ , Cal, and if you’ll climb back over with me now, I want to spend my whole _life_ making it up to you!” Michael was breathing harder now and his eyes were so imploring that Calum couldn’t breathe past the pain anymore. “Just… just _please_ ,” Michael croaked and his sore bottom lip was wobbling as he fought against his tears, and Calum just wanted to hold him but everything was **wrong**. “I can’t _do_ this without you, Cally,” he whispered.

It sounded like a quote from a film; like the words of a bad love story that Calum didn’t want any part in. Michael was lying. Calum _knew_ he was lying. He was just afraid and didn’t want this on his conscience probably, and Calum just had to accept that.

Michael had always come first and Calum couldn’t make the older boy stay here with him any longer. He was so terrified that Michael was going to fall to his death, and that was the only reason Calum took his outstretched hand and climbed stiffly back over the barrier, hauling Michael back with him. Calum could feel Michael’s frantic pulse slowing with relief when the older boy pulled him into a tight hug but Calum wouldn’t melt into it, too tense and distressed.

His panic burnt brightly inside and Calum’s knees hit the pavement now that he knew Michael was safe again. Calum could already feel the regret - the pain and the desperation and the fear - and the little voice in his head was screaming at him that he was too weak; too cowardly and pathetic to even take that final step into oblivion.

Although it was undoubtedly intended to be comforting, Calum felt nothing but self-loathing when Michael wrapped his arm firmly around the younger boy’s waist and all Calum could think of was how sickeningly fat he was… how _disgusted_ Michael must feel as he held him.

When the older boy pressed a gentle kiss to the bruise over the dark-haired boy’s neck, Calum wished he was dead as a sob ripped painfully through him.

“It’ll be okay, Cally,” Michael whispered and he was trying to be comforting but the triumph in his voice at having talked the younger boy down was evident, and it made Calum feel sicker than he’d ever done before. “I’ll _make_ it okay,” Michael murmured when another low sob tore out of the younger boy but it wasn’t enough to save him because Calum didn’t _want_ to be saved. He’d never wanted anything less now. “ _We_ will. Together.”

Michael held him even closer, his palm fitting perfectly into the gap between Calum’s hip and his ribcage. All the younger boy felt was fat.

“C’mon,” Michael whispered, dropping a kiss onto Calum’s dark curls. They spotted a rare gap in the traffic and Michael urged him into a run, helping Calum over the low barrier that separated the lanes of traffic before they finally reached Ashton and Luke waiting for them hopefully on the pavement, both of them looking upset but incredibly relieved.

Michael couldn’t keep the jubilant smile from his face because Calum was limp against him now, appearing almost like he had given up as Michael finally slackened his grip a little. He was just so relieved that they’d got there in time and managed to talk Calum down - Michael had _saved_ him - and that was all that mattered.

Calum was trembling violently as he slipped out of Michael’s grip and the blue-haired boy wanted to hold him again but Calum took a shaky step away, closer to the road now as bleak determination saturated his expression. There was a break in the traffic now but there was a truck approaching up ahead, its heavy tyres thundering down the tarmac as it closed the distance between them worryingly fast.

Calum looked at the older boy one last time, his dark eyes drinking in every little blemish and imperfection - everything that made him **Michael** \- and his heart felt like it had already stopped beating when he his three best friends stared at him with dawning horror.

“You _don’t_ love me,” Calum whispered and the agony was burning inside him now but at least it would all be over soon. This wasn’t how he’d planned it but it would work well enough; there was still no coming back from this. “You _can’t_ ,” Calum said, the tears racing each other down his cheeks as he ached with the pain of it. “ **No one** can.”

With a sickening sinking feeling in his chest, Michael remembered his words to Calum that day in the park - ‘ _You deserve someone who can **love** you_ ’ - and he knew everything that was happening tonight was his fault.

Calum might have been struggling with other things but Michael had made him feel unlovable which was why he did the only thing he could think of when the dark-haired boy stepped out into the path of the oncoming truck, hurtling fast towards them with no hope of stopping in time.

Michael sacrificed himself.

His palms collided with Calum’s chest and the dark-haired boy staggered backwards in shock, tumbling into the relative safety of the gaps between the two lines of cars as Michael’s relief roared through him in the split-second before the truck slammed into him.

Michael felt nothing.

No pain, no fear, no panic.

All he knew was that Calum was safe, and then Michael was far away, lying broken on his back twenty metres down the road with car horns blaring all around and the rain beating lightly against his face. There was a stranger nearby talking about an ambulance, and the dim sound of screaming filtered in and out of his consciousness, and then Ashton was kneeling down next to him, smiling at Michael like his heart was shattered in his chest, and everything was suddenly in crystal clear clarity.

The burning pain from Michael’s broken leg rocketed through his body like an electric fire and the blue-haired boy tried to turn his face away but the pain was too much. He didn’t think he could _move_ and the blood was filling his mouth as it trickled sickeningly onto his chin, and he wanted to wipe it away but even keeping his eyes open felt impossible now.

Calum had stopped screaming but his lips were still parted in a silent cry of pain and he was stroking Michael’s hair back gently, combing his fingers through the sapphire strands as Luke sank down onto his knees beside them, his cracked phone gripped tightly in his hands, the tears pouring down his ashen cheeks in time with the rain. The pain Michael could feel was crippling.

“Saved you, Cal,” the older boy croaked as he lay there on his back in the road, his arms spread out like he was making snow angels, his body slowly going numb as it started to shut down. Michael coughed weakly and the blood bubbled in his mouth as Calum sobbed over him, the guilt and love in his eyes devastating to look at. “Now save **yourself**.”

He lost himself in the younger boy’s beautiful chocolate brown eyes for a moment, more alive now than they had been in over a year. Michael was glad he’d got to see the fire burning in them one more time before he slipped away. That seemed fair somehow.

“Mikey,” Calum murmured as the rain pounded harder. His curls were sticking to his head and he was shaking so badly while, in contrast, Michael grew still against him. “Mikey, **please** , I _can’t_ ,” the younger boy begged but there were tears rolling down his cheeks now and he hadn’t stopped petting Michael’s hair. Michael had always loved people stroking his hair.

His green eyes had drifted up to the cloudy sky now, taking in the stormclouds and the lack of stars before the rain got heavy enough that he had to let them slide shut. His hand slipped over to take Calum’s and it was a monumental effort; almost as impossible as it felt to open his eyes again.

Michael knew Calum was strong enough to fix this now; to get better. He’d been strong enough to get himself into this position in the first place and he was strong enough to get out of it. He _had_ to be.

Michael wished he could tell him that but he didn’t have the words anymore and his mouth felt too dry as the blood coated his tongue. His fingers curled weakly around Calum’s and the younger boy hunched over him, protecting the blue-haired boy from the worst of the rain as he sobbed.

“If you ask for help… they can’t…” Michael’s words failed him but he knew Calum understood what he meant by the horrified fear widening his eyes, even as he squared his jaw, his expression hopelessly anguished. Michael was glad Calum knew what he was trying to say though and he hoped the younger boy would listen to him when Michael was gone; hoped Calum would go to the hospital and ask for help so that the hospital didn’t _force_ him because Calum had never done well under pressure. Michael was so, _so_ worried about him.

“Don’t let this be for nothing, Cal,” Michael breathed, his lungs filling weakly with air as his broken ribs jabbed at them agonisingly. He wondered what his mother would say if she could see him now; then Michael realised he didn’t care. There were more important people in his life than Karen Clifford and Michael was surrounded by some of them right now. She would _not_ be the last thought in his head; she had never earned that right.

“I love you,” Michael choked out and the words could have been for any of them but his eyes were locked on Calum as he used the last of his strength to raise his head the tiniest bit, his expression more solemn than it had ever been as he stared up at Calum, the colour bleeding from the older boy's face as he prayed.

The lights were starting to go hazy around them now and the sound of approaching sirens became more distant as dark spots started to dance in front of Michael’s eyes. He couldn’t stop fighting though; not yet, while Calum was staring at him with so much horror and love that it felt like getting hit by a truck all over again.

“I love you too, Mikey,” the dark-haired boy sobbed and something calmed in Michael’s chest - possibly his heart. His hand slipped from Calum’s to land on the tarmac, his pale fingers uncurling slowly like the petals of a white flower, and he wanted an elastic band for a moment; wanted Graham to stroke his hair back from his forehead and promise that everything was going to be alright but… but it wasn’t.

Michael would never see his uncle again now and the tears in his eyes boiled over as the lump swelled in his throat until he couldn’t breathe anymore; until the black spots got wider and started to cover his best friends’ faces… until everything seemed to jar around him and Michael was being loaded into the back of an ambulance instead, the blood streaking his pale skin as his broken leg screamed protest, his agonised gasp tearing out of him before the pain relief that had been injected into his veins slowly began to take effect.

The inside of the ambulance was brightly lit but it all looked blurry to the seventeen year old and he felt like he was sinking underwater, like he was slowly settling on the seabed as the sand drifted to cover him and the shadows wrapped tenderly around his broken body, drawing him deeper.

“Can you tell me your name, love?” the paramedic asked him, shining a light in his eyes. Michael barely noticed it but the words sank in somehow and he choked on blood, panicking as her colleague held him carefully down on the stretcher.

“Michael Clifford,” he remembered after far too long but the words hurt to speak now and his tired lungs were aching, and Michael just wanted to sleep. The paramedics exchanged a horrified look and Michael started to wonder if he actually recognised one of them before she reached out to wipe some of the blood lightly from his cheek with the pad of her thumb.

“Oh god,” she murmured, looking shocked. “I thought I recognised you. Graham Clifford’s boy?” She was checking his broken leg as she spoke, her fingers deftly brushing the bone where it cut through the skin, her gloves already shiny with blood. Michael’s stomach lurched and he wanted to cry at the mention of his uncle but everything felt too much right now, and their voices seemed to be coming from a thousand miles away.

“I want G-Gray,” Michael sobbed out, his voice breaking, before a scream tore through him as his broken leg was straightened on the stretcher, the bindings tightening to hold it in place. His back arched and the tears leaked down his overheated cheeks, and she stroked his hair back carefully as her colleague continued to work over Michael, fighting to save his life.

“We’ll get you to your uncle, love,” she murmured and Michael’s face crumpled at the pain. The ambulance was already veering through the traffic on its way to the hospital and he could feel the fight leaking out of him now as he remembered Calum’s empty face as he stood there on the bridge; remembered the sharp cut of his bones and the pain in his eyes, and the way he’d flung himself fearlessly in front of the truck that had almost killed Michael.

He remembered Calum crying and the words he’d spoken; the horror on Luke and Ashton’s faces as they gazed down at him as he bled out in the road. Michael’s panic was roaring inside him but the pain overwhelmed it quickly and he couldn’t breathe properly anymore; felt an oxygen mask being fitted over his face but it wasn’t enough to save him now.

Maybe nothing would be.

His eyes fell shut and Michael remembered something quite different for a moment: a bright sunny day and the familiar chiming of his Game Boy as he clambered out of the car with his toy cat Misty tucked carefully under his arm. He remembered pretty flowers in the front garden of one of the houses nearby and seeing a dark-haired boy of about his own age staring at him through a window.

Michael remembered how the little boy’s hand was spread out on the glass like a tiny starfish before he smiled at the other boy sweetly, his dimples creasing his cheeks and his eyes sparkling with stars. Michael remembered the little boy leaning out of the window and shyly saying: “My name’s Calum. What’s yours?” because the golden-haired boy had just moved onto their street.

Michael remembered the sunlight catching the little boy’s face and the way his eyes seemed to glow when Michael trotted over into his front garden, despite his parents telling him not to. He remembered the way Calum’s face crinkled into the most beautiful smile and he remembered not caring that he was going to get told off when he went back home because, already, he could tell this boy was worth it.

“My name’s Michael,” he remembered saying with a bright smile curving his cherry-red lips. “Let’s be best friends.”

“CalumAndMichael,” the little boy giggled and Michael remembered smiling so wide his face ached as he replied: “Through it all.”

When everything faded to black, there was a faint smile on Michael’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3  
> If you didn't hate it, I'd like to hear what you thought.  
> I'm sorry I'm being all :((((( at the moment <3


	106. A Soul Worth Saving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _Graham felt a pang in his chest when he tried to smile because his tears felt like they were drowning him now and Calum was falling apart beside him. The younger boy reached out to hold his hand and it didn’t seem to matter that they didn’t know each other very well; the other was the closest thing to Michael they had right now and Graham thought it made sense that they needed each other so badly. It felt like they had nothing else left._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I’m sorry I didn’t update yesterday. I’ve been so panicky/depressed at the moment that I lost motivation but I’m glad I got this done. It’s really long too which hopefully you guys will like!  
> One of my best friends gave me the lyrics so you can thank her for how angsty this is :')  
> (Also slight spoiler for the chapter but if anyone is confused by the timeline, Cal and Gray talking takes place between Chapters 137 and 138 in Maelstrom, and the rest should be pretty obvious.)  
> This is the beautiful music I listened to while I was writing (you should listen if you want to cry/be amazed): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gb-fQ_9UUMo  
> Fingers crossed you’ll all enjoy this <3
> 
> P.S. If I’ve missed any mistakes or it doesn’t flow very well, I promise I’ll fix this tomorrow. I have a headache now and I’m exhausted.

**_I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name,_ **

**_Like a fool at the top of my lungs._ **

**_Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright,_ **

**_But it's never enough._ **

_\- Echo, Jason Walker_

 

Graham was sitting in the staff room on his break when Laurie found him. He’d known her for years now, ever since he’d started working at the hospital and she’d discovered him wandering around, helplessly lost, and had pointed him in the right direction. Graham liked Laurie a lot; she was funny and friendly, and she always seemed calm too which was what first alerted him to the fact that something was badly wrong.

“Gray! Graham, god, I couldn’t find you!” she gasped, her face tear-streaked, her paramedic’s uniform spattered with blood. The nurse straightened up at once from where he’d been slouching on the low sofa, his uniform a little crumpled as he reached out with his free hand to sit her down beside him.

“What’s wrong, Laurie?” he asked gently, his green eyes concerned. “Bad shift? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” The older woman buried her head in her hands and, although she didn’t cry, she was shaking badly and Graham felt the unease unfurling inside him; he’d never seen her like this before.

“It’s Michael,” she croaked and he stiffened as the ice trickled through his chest. Dimly, he became aware that his hands were shaking, the coffee in his mug splashing dangerously close to the edges as he swallowed audibly. "He got hurt."

“What happened? What do you know?” he asked desperately but he was up and pacing now, the terror flooding through him because Laurie was covered in someone else’s blood and she was talking about _Michael_ , and Graham felt quite a lot like he was going to be sick as the staff room spun sickeningly around him.

“There was an accident out on the dual carriageway on the bridge,” she said quietly, her voice wet and damp with tears. The sympathy in it only made Graham _more_ frightened. “Gray, there was a _truck_ ,” Laurie choked out and the hurt sound that punched out of Graham was almost a sob as his coffee spilled, the hot liquid spreading out on the floor. “He was there with some of his friends but none of them got hurt. I guess they followed us here though; the little dark-haired one was in a bad way when we got there. Just completely lost it when the police tried to talk to them.”

Graham knew her well enough to realise that she was rambling in an effort to keep calm and he fought past his anxiety as he quietly asked her how badly Michael was hurt. When Laurie hung her head for a moment as the light in her eyes went out, Graham felt his heart stop beating in his chest.

“He had a compound break in his leg, broken ribs, possible fracture to his skull. One of his lungs collapsed. He’ll be rushed straight into surgery now, Gray, but it… it doesn’t look good, love. He didn’t even recognise me,” Laurie murmured, her eyes overflowing with tears as Graham’s empty mug slipped through his limp fingers to shatter on the floor. His back slammed into the counter and the cutlery in the drying rack rattled, and the hollowness spreading sickeningly in his chest was stealing his oxygen. He couldn’t breathe now.

“I’m so, _so_ sorry, Graham,” she whispered and the agony on his face made her fall silent for a moment before she rose shakily, drawing him gently into her arms. “We lost him once in the ambulance but he kept fighting. He’s so strong. He could still pull through.”

“I can’t… Not without him. I _c-can’t_ ,” the nurse choked out, his voice breaking, and Laurie’s face crumpled, even as she hugged him more tightly. Her radio crackled to life on her belt and she sighed sadly, giving her friend an apologetic look as he gazed at her through blank eyes.

“You’re still on shift,” he realised but his heart felt like it was barely beating in his chest when she nodded unhappily. “Thank you for telling me about Mike,” he whispered. “The hospital would’ve called his parents probably and… I might not have found out. Thank you, Laurie. So much. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“Oh, Gray,” she murmured, cupping his tear-wet face in her palms for a moment. “You never worry about yourself.” She kissed him chastely on the cheek before she left the room and Graham stood there in the puddle of cooling coffee for a long time.

It was already dark through the broken blinds hanging up crookedly in front of the window and he could see the faintest sliver of moon now that the clouds had parted. He stayed there for so long that he missed when he should have re-started his shift and the ward manager came to check on him, a friendly man named Richard who took one look at the nurse and realised something terrible had happened.

He got the story out of Graham in pieces, pausing between the nurse’s tears to fetch him tissues and make him a sugary mug of tea. Graham felt like a zombie as he slumped there on the stained upholstery but Richard stayed with him until an unpleasant numbness had rolled over the nurse to mask his pain.

“If Michael’s in surgery then there’s nothing you can do by staying here tonight,” Richard said carefully when Graham buried his head wearily in his hands. “Why don’t you head home, try to get some sleep? Michael will need you wide awake tomorrow when he’s ready for visitors.” Richard was trying to be positive and Graham’s eyes burnt with tears again but he fought in vain for composure.

“What about my shift?” he asked weakly and Richard gave him a soft, sad look.

“Ali is on-call,” the ward manager reassured him gently. “She’ll be happy to cover for you when she understands the situation, Graham. You go home now, okay? Take care of yourself and see how things go tomorrow. We won’t be expecting you in.”

Graham thanked Richard but he didn’t go home. He wandered aimlessly through the corridors instead, still dressed in coffee-stained scrubs, and it wasn’t until his feet carried him towards the waiting rooms on the floor where the emergency operating theatres were located that he realised he was looking for Michael’s friends.

Calum found two of them sitting on the uncomfortable plastic chairs, both of them pale and teary-eyed as they clung to each other fearfully. Luke and Ashton, his brain supplied dully, and the woman with them must be Luke’s aunt Sharon. Graham knew he’d spoken to her on the phone before - the day Ashton had called him in a panic and first told him that he was worried about Calum - but it felt like a million years ago now. Graham felt like he was underwater.

Ashton let out a sob when he saw the nurse and Luke’s eyes brimmed with tears but they quietly explained to him what had happened - Calum’s self-harm scars coming to light, the fight in the changing rooms, following a suicidal Calum to the bridge, Michael climbing over the safety barrier to bring him back, and then Calum launching himself into the road in a last-ditch attempt to end things and Michael sacrificing himself to save him.

Sharon had gone pale and flinty-eyed as she listened to the story but Graham barely paid attention; he was too drained as his brain carefully filled in the gaps of what had happened. He could almost picture it for a moment; Michael’s broken body flying through the air in the glaring headlights before he crashed down onto the tarmac like a ragdoll.

“When Cal told him he loved him back…” Luke’s voice sounded small and weak as the tears rolled slowly down his cheeks. “Mike stopped holding on.”

Ashton lurched out of the room like his panic was burning him from the inside out and, as Luke rushed after him to comfort his boyfriend, Graham thought he knew exactly how Ashton felt because the knowledge that Michael was fighting for his life just a few rooms away was _excruciating_. Graham thought he might bleed to death with the pain of it.

Sharon watched him sympathetically but she didn’t break the silence that stretched and Graham was oddly grateful for it. All she did was pat him gently on the wrist when he got shakily to his feet and he gave her a watery smile as he trailed out into the brightly-lit corridor. A headache was beginning to pound behind his eyes - probably brought on by stress - and he felt older than he ever had in his life as he wandered through the hospital, too dazed to even consider driving home.

It had been hours by the time he came to a stop in the reception area, dropping down into a seat by the automatic doors where there was more cool air. He was trying to calm the unsteady rasping of his breathing but it wasn’t possible when when he knew how _broken_ Michael was right now… when he knew he was utterly powerless to help.

It was almost an hour later when Calum appeared nearby. He sat down beside the nurse in silence, his face so gaunt and sunken that Graham felt terrible for not having realised how awfully sick the younger boy was. He wished he’d noticed.

“How are you doing, mate?” Graham asked quietly, his voice rough from crying although he managed a damp smile when Calum looked at him wordlessly with something like fear. His dark eyes were red with tears and he was trembling hard, and Graham felt like he’d been kicked in the chest when he remembered what he’d learnt about Calum earlier; how damaged and suicidal the poor boy really was.

“I…” Calum shrugged jerkily, a brittle smile touching his lips as his breath escaped him in a sob. “I’ve been better. I imagine you know the feeling right now.”

It grew quiet between them and Calum wrapped his arms around himself tightly, his fingers biting hard into the bare, scarred skin of his arms. He didn’t seem to be feeling the cold but Graham shrugged out of the hoodie he’d been wearing anyway, draping it around the younger boy’s shoulders. Calum tried to smile at him but he was crying at the same time and Graham felt like all of the life had been scraped out of him as he sank back in the chair. He couldn’t believe Michael might die - that it was actually quite _likely_ after the terrible things that had happened to him - and Graham hated so much that he wasn’t able to save him this time.

It had been okay before - not _easy_ but doable. Graham could save Michael from himself and from his parents, and from anyone else who might make him feel like shit, but it wasn’t so easy this time… because no one was to blame. Not the driver or Calum or even Michael for being so _damn_ temerarious.

Graham felt so empty without Michael.

“You look just like him,” Calum said out of nowhere, his voice little more than a whisper, and there was something so raw in his pain that Graham felt a lump rising in his throat. “I don’t know how I never noticed that before but he really could be you one day.”

“I’ll make so many terrible jokes about that when he gets older,” Graham said softly and he was fighting _so_ hard to stay positive but it was tearing him apart. “I’m sure once he starts going grey I can laugh at him for becoming my twin… unless he goes bald first.”

“Michael would hate going bald,” Calum pointed out with a watery laugh but his face crumpled and a tear rolled down his cheek. Graham handed him a tissue wordlessly and the dark-haired boy buried his face in it for a second, his shoulders shaking beneath the borrowed hoodie, his eyelashes spiky with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” they both said at the same time and Graham felt a pang in his chest when he tried to smile because his tears felt like they were drowning him now, and Calum was falling apart beside him. The younger boy reached out to hold his hand and it didn’t seem to matter that they didn’t know each other very well; the other was the closest thing to Michael they had right now and Graham thought it made sense that they needed each other so badly. It felt like they had nothing else left.

The difference was that Graham didn’t. Calum had a room full of people who loved him upstairs, whether he realised it right now or not.

“I don’t blame you,” the nurse said softly, hating the guilt and self-hatred he could see on the younger boy’s face. “You know that, right? This isn’t your fault, Calum. You’re hurting and that’s okay - that’s _human_ \- but you didn’t make Michael do this. He chose to. This isn’t your fault.”

Graham watched the words sinking in on Calum’s tanned face and he hated how empty the younger boy’s eyes were; hated how sad and deflated he looked as he slumped there in the uncomfortable chair, so thin and limp that he resembled little more than clothes cast aside on a bedroom floor. Graham hated that Calum had been reduced to this and he thought he might be starting to understand why Michael had fought so strongly to save the younger boy now. Calum seemed like a soul worth saving.

“Michael saved my life,” the dark-haired boy whispered and he saw the pain rippling across Graham’s face but there was _pride_ there too, mixed up in the anguish, and Calum held his gaze with a hopelessness bordering on desperation. “Not just then but… afterwards too. When he was… when he was fucking _lying_ there…” Calum’s face crumpled but he fought against the pain building in his voice as he swallowed past his tears. “He said… he said that I couldn’t let what he did be for nothing… that he’d saved me so I could save _myself_ -”

Calum broke off with a quiet sob and Graham could see in the younger boy’s face how terrifying the reality of this evening was, not just because of what had happened with Michael but because he had to face up to his eating disorder too; to the self-harm and the depression, and how badly his life had crumbled to pieces around him. Graham’s tears refused to stop falling.

“I won’t let this be for nothing,” Calum choked out and he wiped his eyes hard with his fist while his other hand remained firmly gripping the nurse’s. Calum’s fingers felt fragile in Graham’s hand but they were both trembling too hard to let go. “I won’t let this be a waste,” the dark-haired boy repeated and he looked so small bundled up in Graham’s hoodie but his expression was determined. “I’m… I’m gonna get better so when - **when** , not if - Mikey gets better… he can be proud of me.”

“That was all Mike ever wanted,” Graham said softly and he knew the words were the truth; remembered all those nights when Michael had torn himself apart and hated himself for not knowing how to help Calum. He’d finally done it now but Graham prayed he hadn’t lost himself in the process.

“I’m not just going to try,” Calum said shakily, his eyes swollen with how much he’d been crying now… almost _bruised_. “I’m going to beat this. I’m going to beat this so fucking hard because nobody matters like Michael does. No one even comes _close_.”

Calum was breathing hard now, his cheeks flaming as the tears fell faster, and Graham was kind of expecting it when Calum crumpled against his chest, a broken sob tearing out of him as he fisted the material of Graham’s scrubs tightly in one shaking fist, his tears soaking into the older man’s shoulder. Graham stroked his back gently but he was thinking about something Calum had said earlier, about needing Michael to be proud of him. Graham wondered if Calum realised that everyone always _had_ been.

“Mike already is proud of you, mate,” Graham said gently, his voice thick with tears. “He always was.”

Calum’s sobs were quiet and heartbroken, full of sorrow and love, and Graham rocked him gently until the younger boy had cried himself out, limp and grey-faced in his arms as he settled back listlessly in the uncomfortable plastic chair. The automatic doors opened to allow a porter to enter and the cool air made Calum shiver visibly as the tears dried on Graham’s face.

“My sister’s going to be here soon. Probably my mum too since I bet Mali texted her,” Calum said suddenly as he zipped the hoodie up with shaking fingers, burying his hands in the too-long sleeves. His legs were crossed on the seat under him now and he was watching the nurse blearily, like the exhaustion and shock he could feel were making him want to sleep. His expression was equal parts worry and weariness, and Graham got the feeling that it was about more than just his nephew.

“You look… unsure,” he said quietly, unsure how to broach it, and Calum gave him a long surprised look before the faintest smile the nurse had ever seen touched the younger boy’s lips.

“My sister ran away from home a very long time ago,” Calum explained after a long moment, tangling his fingers together as he frowned down at them, clearly trying to order his thoughts. Graham got the impression that Calum hadn’t spoken about this much before, if at all, and he tried his hardest to pay attention. The dark-haired boy deserved that much.

“I think it was about a year ago now but… I lost count in the end,” Calum admitted, shrugging weakly as he huddled up in the hoodie, drawing his bony knees up to his chest. “All I wanted the whole time was for her to come back - at least until my dad got even worse but… I needed her. I needed her so bad but I lied when she asked me if I was okay and I told her to stay in Canberra. She has a boyfriend there now, Graham - he’s called Harry and she loves him - and… and she was working on her music and building this exciting new life that… that didn’t have our shitty family in it and… and I need her here so badly but I feel like I’m not going to recognise her when she walks in.”

Calum was crying again but he didn’t seem to realise it and Graham stayed quiet, watching the younger boy’s tears dripping from the painfully sharp cut of his jaw as he covered his scars beneath the hoodie.

“I don’t think I _know_ her anymore and that’s the worst thing,” Calum breathed, his eyes shut now like speaking to no one was easier. “I’m scared she’s going to be right here next to me and I’m still going to miss her like my heart’s breaking.” He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, his cheeks heating with anxiety as his eyes fluttered open to look at the nurse imploringly. “What if she sees how fucked up I am - how fucked up our family is - and she just decides she can’t handle it? What if she leaves again?”

“Then you’ll survive,” Graham said quietly, his voice hesitant but sure. “You’re hurting now - you’re hurting really, _really_ badly - but you’re still here, Calum. You’d survive.” Graham allowed himself a thin smile but his heart ached in his chest. “You don’t need to worry about that though, Cal. She came back the moment you told her you needed her, right?” he asked gently and, after a slight hesitation, the dark-haired boy nodded. “Then this will be okay,” Graham said quietly. “You haven’t lost her.”

“I’m so scared,” Calum whispered, burying his face in his thin hands as he shifted uncomfortably, like his bones were hurting from sitting on the chair for so long. “I’m scared but I don’t know _why_ I’m scared and it’s stupid because I love her but… I don’t think I’m ready for her to see me like this.”

“You two love each other,” Graham said softly and he was so exhausted now but he refused to leave Calum alone like this, no matter how badly he was hurting himself. Calum was Michael’s oldest best friend and his nephew would want Calum to be safe; Graham could do that for him. “That will be enough, Calum.”

The dark-haired boy looked like he was about to answer when he faltered suddenly, his dark eyes widening with shock before they rapidly filled with tears again. He was staring wordlessly over the nurse’s shoulder and Graham turned towards the automatic doors where he saw a woman approaching who could only be Calum’s mother. She was limping and a bruise stretched across her jaw, and she flinched when someone walking out of the doors in the other direction passed her, and Graham felt something cold in his chest when she half-ran to Calum, pulling the ashen-faced boy into a tight hug as the nurse buried his head in his hands for a moment.

He knew the symptoms of domestic violence when he saw them and he realised that Calum had been dealing with so much more than even Michael had realised. He didn’t think it was any _wonder_ that the younger boy had been struggling so badly. No wonder at all.

“Baby,” Joy murmured when she drew back, her face streaked with tears as she cradled Calum’s face gently between her palms, her dark eyes upset. “I haven’t seen you since… since David...” She broke off but the pain on her face took Graham’s breath away, even as he tried his hardest not to eavesdrop. “Calum, love, I’m so _sorry_ ,” she whispered, taking his hands gently in her own and pressing a soft kiss to the knuckles. “I’m sorry last night happened and… and _now_.” Her face crumpled when a low sob escaped him and, for the first time, she seemed to see Graham sitting there.

“I’m Michael’s uncle,” he offered quietly when he saw her taking in his appearance with confusion, apparently realising that he resembled his nephew much as Calum had. “We were just talking before you got here. He was keeping me company.”

Joy’s expression cleared but her dark eyes were wet with tears that refused to fall as she cuddled Calum closer to her chest. He tucked his head beneath her chin and her bottom lip wobbled for a moment, like she wasn’t used to him being so vulnerable in front of her. Graham thought he knew just how she felt as he remembered falling asleep on the sofa with Michael a couple of weeks ago, holding his nephew close when the blue-haired boy just wanted to fall apart.

“Thank you for taking care of Calum,” Joy said quietly, reaching out shakily with knuckles that were battered and bruised as she patted the back of the nurse's hand gently. “I’m so sorry about Michael,” she murmured. “I know that doesn’t make the blindest bit of difference but… for what it’s worth.”

“Thank you,” Graham murmured, bowing his head as the pain threatened to rise in his chest. He hated that she managed to be so calm and collected when she’d so obviously been beaten only recently, and he wondered at what she’d said to Calum; wondered what had happened the night before that might finally have pushed the dark-haired boy over the edge. Graham felt sick just thinking about it and he was just wondering if it would be polite to excuse himself - because the pair of them _clearly_ had things they needed to discuss - when Calum tightened his grip on the older man’s hand, apparently realising that the nurse still badly needed the comfort.

“I’m sorry you were there when David… I’m sorry, baby. _So_ sorry,” Joy whispered but Calum couldn’t reply past the quiet sobs tearing out of him as he wept into her neck, too exhausted to speak anymore. She stroked his curls gently and exchanged a hopeless look with Graham, and then the automatic doors were sliding open and Joy stiffened.

“Mali,” she whispered and Graham followed her gaze, taking in a tall dark-haired girl who looked the spitting image of her. Her clothes were mismatched and she must have got ready in a rush, her fingers tightly entwined with the those of the young man standing beside her. He had wide green eyes and a low, calm voice as he gently nudged his girlfriend forwards with a soft: “Go on, Mali.”

Calum was gazing up at her now, his expression twisted with so much love and pain that it looked like his face was collapsing in on itself. Mali covered her mouth in shock when she saw what had become of her little brother and the quiet sob that escaped her when she pulled Calum into a tight hug made Calum cry too.

Joy was watching her two children embrace with something like contentment and Graham found it so sad that their family had been cleaved apart like this. He knew just how they felt now and, in an effort to regain control of himself, his eyes drifted to Mali’s boyfriend.

Harry was watching Graham back, taking in his scrubs and the hand Calum had only just released with something like confusion before he realised he’d been noticed. Harry managed a faintly sheepish smile but his eyes looked exhausted and Graham guessed the drive over here hadn’t been easy.

“You here with Calum?” Harry asked curiously, his accent distinctly English which surprised Graham a little. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“Yeah, sort of,” Graham answered, his throat sore from how much he’d cried tonight. “I… I’m Michael’s uncle. He lives with me.” Something dark and sad drifted over Harry’s face, and Graham was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t receive another apology because, privately, he felt like he’d had enough of those tonight to last a lifetime.

“Why don’t we give these guys a break?” Harry said, purposefully loudly enough that Mali shot him a grateful look and Calum’s eyes became frightened. “We can grab a snack or something from the canteen, man. Get some sugar in you. You look like you’re about to drop.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Graham decided as he got up to follow Harry. “Maybe I can manage a cereal bar or something.”

The pair of them didn’t talk much as they drifted into the canteen but it was a comfortable silence and Graham was grateful when Harry eased his wallet out to pay for their snacks. He was kind and friendly, and Graham would have found him very easy to get along with in a better situation than this one.

“Better make sure they’re okay,” Harry murmured as he glanced worriedly towards the reception area. “I know things weren’t great between Mali and her mum before she left so… I wouldn’t put it past them to let things get a little heated when they’re both stressed,” the younger man said, biting his bottom lip worriedly. Graham hoped for Calum’s sake that they weren’t. “Did you see Joy’s face, by the way?” Harry asked suddenly, looking worried. “What happened to her?”

The nurse shrugged morosely, that sick feeling returning to his stomach as he remembered her flinching and the way she’d limped as she crossed the room.

“She said something about someone called David? I guess he hurt her but… I don’t know who he is.” The younger man looked upset when he heard this and the nurse wasn’t sure he wanted to find out why.

“Shit,” Harry sighed, his green eyes deeply troubled as his shoulders slumped. “David is Joy’s husband. He’s their dad, man. No wonder things are so messed up.”

Graham was inclined to agree and his heart felt heavy in his chest as the pair of them returned to the reception area. They found Calum sitting alone with his head in his hands while Mali and Joy - as Harry had predicted - stood across from each other and argued in hissed, rapidly-loudening whispers like steam boiling out of a kettle.

“- and you were never there for him before, mum!” Mali was saying in a voice just loud enough that the receptionist was glaring over at them. “You were never there and now you think you can just -”

“I was there!” Joy argued. “I _tried_ to be there for him! It wasn’t easy - having children _isn’t_ easy - but I tried!”

“You didn’t! All Cal ever did was fucking cry about how he thought you guys didn’t love him and -”

“Shut up, Mali!” Calum cried but his voice was higher in his stress and weak with the tears rolling down his flushed face. “I love you but _shut up_! Mum’s been here for me this year when no one else was and you don’t even have the first clue of what she’s had to deal with so just **_shut up_**!”

Mali reeled back like Calum had slapped her and even Harry stilled beside Graham, a heavy sigh escaping him as he watched the argument unfolding with wide eyes. Mali was breathing hard now, her eyes sparkling with tears as she tried to flatten her hair with shaking hands, apparently struggling to calm herself.

After what felt like an age, she finally exhaled shakily.

“You’re right,” she whispered and there was something strained in her face that fell away when Joy sank back down into the chair, all of the fight draining out of her. Apparently appeased, the receptionist returned to her computer. “I wasn’t here and I’m sorry for that. I’m so, _so_ sorry but…” Mali was looking at her little brother now, taking in his sunken face as the tears in her eyes burnt over. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to help you, squirt,” she murmured, wiping her cheeks hard with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry I left you behind in the first place.”

Graham walked past both women without commenting, more focused on Calum than the family struggles which he saw no reason to interfere with. The dark-haired boy looked up at him with tear-wet eyes when Graham crouched down but he gave Calum’s hand a squeeze and a tear rolled into the younger boy’s dimple when he tried to smile back.

“I’m gonna go see if they have any update on Mikey,” Graham said softly, aware that the others were listening but uncaring right now. “If I hear anything I promise I’ll find you to let you know, okay?” When Calum nodded tearfully, Graham straightened up. “Do you have my number?” the nurse asked. “I know Ashton had it so you can get it from him if not but… if you ever want to talk to someone who doesn’t know you all that well, I’m always here.”

Graham had said similar words to Ashton before and he felt the lump rising in his throat when Calum nodded silently, squaring his jaw like he was trying so hard to be brave and strong for Michael. Graham knew the blue-haired boy would have appreciated it so much if he’d been awake to see it.

“I need to go too,” Joy said suddenly, taking in the alarm colouring her son’s face with sadness. “Just for a little while, Calum,” she reassured him gently. “I need to find out who we have to talk to regarding getting you referred to the clinic.” Graham guessed she was talking about her son’s eating disorder and the hollow look on Calum’s face as he nodded silently only confirmed this. “I’ll take you home with me tonight though,” she continued quietly. “David has… he’s gone now. He left this morning… so it’s safe.” She glanced towards Mali and Harry as she spoke, biting her bottom lip nervously. “You two are obviously welcome there too,” she said and Graham was relieved when he saw Mali give her mum a hesitant smile.

He thought the Hoods would be okay in the end.

“Take care, man,” Harry murmured, patting Graham on the shoulder as the nurse finally turned away. He’d barely gone a step when Calum’s arms suddenly wrapped tightly around him and Graham choked on a sob as he turned to hug the younger boy back, closing his eyes for a moment before Calum drew away again, looking confused and a little embarrassed. Graham gave him a watery smile.

“Keep the hoodie,” he said quietly and Calum’s lips tugged up into the saddest half-smile the nurse had ever seen. “You can give it back to Mikey if you see him first, yeah? He can bring it back to me.”

“Definitely,” Calum breathed, his smile faint and hopeful as it flitted across his face like a butterfly, only to wash away in the storm as Calum’s tears fell again.

Graham left an awkward silence behind when he headed back towards the main corridor. He spent the next hour or so drifting from the waiting room where Michael’s friends were to the quiet of the staff room, torn between wanting time alone and needing the company of people who understood how lost he felt, even if he _did_ feel like he was drowning in their tears as well as his own.

Graham had never felt this tired in his life before. It was fully dark outside now, already close to ten or eleven o’clock probably although the nurse had lost count a long time ago, and his feet dragged on the shining floor of the corridor as he completed what felt like another endless loop, heading back towards the waiting room once more.

He’d received a text a little while ago from his brother saying that they had arrived and Graham didn’t know why it had shaken him up so badly. All of his demons were catching up with him tonight - namely, the horror of potentially losing his nephew - so it made sense that Graham would have to deal with this now too. He just felt stunned, too tired and terrified to think anymore, and he didn’t know how he felt about seeing Michael’s parents tonight.

He wished they’d stayed away, despite knowing it made sense for them to be here. It wasn’t easy for him though because Karen had been tearing Michael down for years and Daryl had been too afraid to stand up to her. Karen had been terrible for as long as Graham had known her - she was too cold and proud, and utterly uncaring - but seeing his older brother just hurt now. The nurse tried to avoid Daryl at all costs.

With this thought in mind, he quickened his pace on his way down the long corridor outside the waiting room, keen to just get their meeting out of the way now. However, the closer he got, the slower he walked as the sound of raised voices slowly became apparent.

He frowned, his steps heavy and slow as he faltered because everything was so, _so_ hard tonight. He could hear Luke shouting through the partially open door now that he was aware of it and Graham paused just out of sight, his heart hammering in his ribs when he heard his sister-in-law shouting back.

They were talking about Michael and Graham’s stomach lurched sickeningly when he heard Karen listing everything she hated about her son, and it was so painful to hear - to realise that everything had been even worse than Michael had ever confessed to him, even when he was falling apart - that Graham’s anger froze him where he stood.

He could feel his blood turning to ice as it seeped through his veins and… fuck, he’d known it was bad. He’d known it was _terrible_ but hearing someone else say it only cemented to him the fact that his older brother had stood by and let this happen to his son - to _Michael_ , the most amazing person Graham had ever met - and he knew, as he staggered into the room and stared at Daryl with ice in his heart, that it would take a miracle for him to forgive his brother.

Nothing short of Michael waking up and telling his father he was prepared to accept his apology would be enough now.

Daryl looked deeply ashamed when he realised that Graham had been listening but Karen’s face twisted with fury and the depths of Graham’s hatred for her shocked him as the older woman immediately fired up, spewing so much venom at him that Graham simply switched off as he went to stand protectively in front of Luke and Ashton instead, making sure that the boys were okay.

Graham’s blank indifference - barely masking the pain he could feel tearing through him like an earthquake inside - seemed to be angering Karen and she was back to listing her son’s faults again as she stood there, her chest heaving with anger, her eyes glittering with fury. Daryl shrank beside her, little more than a shadow.

“So you basically hate everything about Mike then,” Luke snapped at Karen when apparently her bitter words became too much to bare. Graham glanced at Luke, took in the points of colour in his cheeks and the fire burning in his blue eyes, and was glad Michael had found such loyal friends, even as he became aware that he himself was shaking in rage at his sister-in-law’s words.

“Michael is a _brilliant_ kid but _none_ of that is on you two,” Graham said and it was so hard to keep his voice level but he tried, making the words as cutting as possible in the hopes that they might hit home. “You two did _nothing_ for Michael. You don't deserve to call someone as incredible as him your son!"

Karen’s painted lips curled into a sneer and her laugh sounded like poison as Graham glared at her in absolute disbelief, unable to wrap his head around the fact that someone could be so spiteful and cruel.

"Weren't you listening, you _stupid_ man?!” Karen snapped, her eyes flashing with rage. “I don't _want_ him as a son! Now when he's the way he is! Not anymore! He's a lost cause and he makes me _sick_!” She glanced towards her husband and Graham’s brother shrank away from her, small and lost in the chair. “And Daryl feels the same!” she added with something like triumph. Graham was struggling _so_ hard not to fall apart now but he held his breath when Daryl looked up at him with hopeless eyes, his head shake so infinitesimal that no one else saw it.

“ _Don't_ you, Daryl?" Karen said coldly and, when the older man murmured a faint yes, Graham slumped back down into a chair, knotting his fingers into his hair so tightly that it hurt as he struggled to breathe past the pain rising in his chest.

“Get out,” he choked at them, his eyes burning with rage and agony as the tears fell down his cheeks like rain. “Get out right fucking now and _never_ come near Michael again because -”

Graham broke off when the door opened once more to reveal a grim-faced surgeon and, when the reality that this man had been operating on Michael for almost five hours slowly sank in, Graham was on his feet in an instant, his eyes sore with tears, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

He thought he might have seen the surgeon around before - maybe in the canteen or the car park before work - but every thought went out of his mind when the man changed Graham’s life in a single moment.

"It's... not good news I'm afraid,” the surgeon said gently, still dressed in his blood-stained scrubs as he looked around at them all carefully. Graham’s heart rose into his throat and he couldn’t breath past it but that was okay; nobody else in the room seemed to be breathing either. “There were complications during surgery. We lost him three times but he kept fighting.”

" _And_?" Graham breathed, shaking so badly that he could barely stay standing now. The surgeon’s grey eyes revealed nothing but there was a faint tightening to his expression that sent Graham’s heart thundering painfully in his chest as he tried not to panic.

“I can only express my deepest apologies,” the surgeon said gently, and he was addressing Karen and Daryl now which seemed bitterly unfair to Graham. “Your son has fallen into a coma."

Ashton looked like he couldn’t remember how to breathe anymore and Luke was trembling violently as he clung to his boyfriend. Graham’s life was crashing down around him. He could feel his very foundations shaking under the rocks falling as his world caved in. There was nothing left to save now.

Dimly, he could hear himself choking out words to form a broken sentence as he asked when Michael was going to wake up. Daryl was shuddering now, shaking so violently that he looked like he was going to collapse, and Graham might have been viciously pleased if he hadn’t felt so wrecked… if he didn’t feel like his heart had been set fire to in his chest.

“It’s unclear when – or if – he will regain consciousness,” the surgeon said quietly, hesitating for a moment before emotion rippled across his face for the first time that evening and Graham saw how exhausted he was; how tired and sad and stressed. This was just his job - just another day in his life - but Graham knew his own life would never be the same again.

“We just don’t know,” the surgeon said, finally holding Graham’s gaze since he seemed to realise that this was one of the people who cared the most. “I’m so sorry.”

Graham crumpled into the chair, his breath tearing out of him raggedly like he’d been kicked in the chest. Daryl was crying now, much the same as Luke and Ashton, and Karen’s voice was icy when she gave Graham the coldest look and said: “Michael is _your_ problem now."

She dragged Daryl out of the room by the wrist and the nurse wanted to follow them for a moment - wanted to take his brother back because fuck, he might be a coward but he was the closest thing to a family Graham had right now - but he was shaking too badly as the shock set in.

Every time he tried to stand, his legs folded beneath him and he fell back into the chair. Ashton and Luke were curled up in the corner of the room now, both of them wrapped in each other’s arms as they sobbed, and Graham didn’t speak to them as he finally rose, leaning against the wall like an old man as he started the long trek to the car park.

He wasn’t ready to see Michael yet; wasn’t ready to face the fact that everything was over now. He just needed some fresh air; just needed to sit in the darkness and breathe for a few moments… to cry where he doesn’t have to worry about someone watching him break down in a place where Graham had always tried his hardest to be strong.

The Hood family and Harry were gone when Graham made it down to reception, and he stumbled through the automatic doors into the brisk cold of the night outside with a soft gasp of relief. The stars were just beginning to glint to life overhead and Graham saw the glint of a glass bottle nearby, drew his foot back and intended to kick it into the wall so that it would shatter before something in his chest collapsed, and he went to put it in the bin instead.

He cried there for a little while, just standing in the darkness with the heaving sobs tearing through him as he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, fighting not to break down completely. That would be for tonight when he went home alone to an empty house for the first time in months… to the house that he had done his absolute best to make Michael’s home.

He didn’t want to live there without his nephew. The thought made Graham feel weak and sick.

He turned back towards the hospital with a grim expression on his face which quickly gave way to shock when he saw his brother standing alone in the car park, the tears drying sticky on his cheeks as he looked at his younger brother with the sad emerald eyes they shared with Michael.

“What are you doing here?” Graham asked blankly and Daryl just looked at him, his expression so devastated that Graham almost fell down.

“I… I’m worried,” Daryl whispered and it was such an understatement that Graham wished he’d kept the glass bottle, if only to hit his brother around the head with it. “I wanted to wait and… and she didn’t. So she left.” Daryl’s eyes were panic-stricken and Graham didn’t know whether to be furious or shocked because… fuck, maybe Daryl had _finally_ grown tired of being a coward.

“Michael’s - God, _Michael_ -” Daryl gasped out and he was crying now, shaking his head as the tears rolled down his cheeks. Graham felt lost. “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Daryl whispered after a moment and Graham punched him in the shoulder, hard enough that it made the older man stumble back a few steps as he stared at his younger brother fearfully.

“You’re fucking pathetic!” Graham sobbed out but he didn’t push Daryl away when his brother pulled him into a hesitant hug and the nurse’s pain swept through him like a tidal wave and he clung to the older man, his heart raw in his chest.

Daryl was the only thing holding him up and Graham was sobbing brokenly into his neck. Nothing felt like it was ever going to be okay again now because, fuck, Graham had promised Michael once that he’d never let him get hurt again - he’d fucking **_promised_**  him - but he’d failed.

He’d failed and Michael might never wake up again.

Graham had lost the only thing that had ever really mattered to him; had lost his whole _world_... because Michael had given him purpose and Graham loved his nephew more than anything on the planet and… and Michael was gone now.

Graham had lost him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought, especially as it wasn’t Calum’s POV. I was worried some of you might be expecting that and I only hope I did this justice!  
> I’d love to hear what you thought <3


	107. Danger To Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“You’re not a child, Calum, and that’s why I think it’s better not to sugar-coat this,” Dr. Banks said gently and her steely eyes were familiar from a lifetime of visiting the same surgery. “If you don’t receive treatment soon and rapidly change your behaviour - and I mean within the next few weeks - you will die.”_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm sorry about the wait and also how short this is. I meant to write a much longer update but that will have to wait until next time and I didn't want to leave it another day without updating again.  
> I'm in the process of looking for a new job and trying my best not to have another nervous breakdown (easier said then done) but writing this helped!  
> It actually wasn't as angsty as I imagined and I couldn't find any lyrics I liked but these seemed best.  
> Fingers crossed you like it!

**_Before you walk away,_ **

**_There's one more thing I want to say:_ **

**_Our brains are sick but that's okay._ **

_\- Fake You Out, Twenty One Pilots_

 

Calum collapsed again three days later.

He was helping Joy put the washing up away when it happened. One minute they’d been listening to the radio and talking quietly about what they’d do once Calum was ‘better’, and the next the glass he’d been holding had shattered into a million pieces on the floor as the pain in his chest spiked dully.

Calum’s back hit the counter and he slid slowly down onto the floor, his dark eyes panicked as the dull pain spread through his shoulders and neck. He’d felt this bad only once before - that day in the rain with Michael - and he felt sick when Joy knelt down in front of him, careful to avoid the glass as she stared at him in terror.

“Calum?” Her voice was tight with worry and pain but the bruise on her face was fading. Calum’s eyes fluttered shut for a minute. “Baby, what’s wrong? Is it your chest? Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

“ _No_ ,” Calum gasped out but his head fell back to rest against the counter and the tears leaked down his cheeks anyway. A cold sweat had broken out on his forehead and he tried to breathe past the painful squeezing of his heart in his chest. “This has happened before. I’ll be okay in a minute probably. I promise.”

She made him go to the doctors surgery for an emergency appointment the next morning, despite the seventeen year old doing his best to downplay how terrifyingly weak he felt, and it was even worse than he’d imagined. The doctor seemed to realise what was going on at once and Calum shrank back in his chair when his mother was asked to leave the room.

Once Joy had gone, the doctor gave Calum a long look, her grey hair scraped back into a no-nonsense ponytail, her silvery-blue eyes surprisingly kind behind her glasses.

“How long have you suffered with your eating disorder, Calum?” she asked and there was something in her calm tone that stopped him from panicking, even as he bristled indignantly. He still didn’t _truly_ believe he was sick but he knew something was badly wrong and there didn’t seem to be much point in avoiding the question now. He’d have to address it sooner or later anyway so now seemed as good - or as bad - a time as any.

“I guess… about a year?” Calum said doubtfully but his lips pressed into a thin line as he resisted the urge to pinch at his stomach. “Although… I don’t agree that that’s what it is. It was just a diet that… got a bit out of control I guess.”

“Are you exercising frequently? Controlling your calorie intake?” she asked and Calum snorted despite himself, his aching heart clenching in his chest. She saw the truth on his face. “Have yourself on a pretty strict regime, huh?” she said and Calum shrugged half-heartedly before nodding.

“This isn’t healthy, Calum,” she said and he forced himself to meet her gaze as she sat there, her hands folded neatly on her lap, her blouse pristine beneath her neatly ironed jacket. Her name badge identified her as ‘Dr. Banks’ although he already knew this and Calum bit his bottom lip nervously as he watched her.

“From the way you described your symptoms and the nature of your condition taken into account, I believe you’re suffering heart failure,” she said gently, her eyes tightening a little at the shock on his face. “When an eating disorder becomes as severe as yours is - and I know you may find that difficult to hear but please, listen to me - it can damage your heart. Not only do you not have enough body fat to keep your internal organs protected but you’ll suffer with anaemia too which weakens the blood. That causes poor circulation which lowers your body’s temperature and that means that your heart is unable to pump and circulate the blood as effectively as it should be.”

She was watching him with something more calculated than sympathy and Calum found it surprisingly refreshing; he was sick of people watching him like he was about to break. “You’ve noticed a reduction in muscle mass too, even despite the exercise?” she continued and Calum nodded hesitantly. The doctor pursed her lips thoughtfully. “That can damage the heart too as it means the muscle has physically weakened. That can cause a drop in blood pressure and pulse, and I believe this is why you’ve been experiencing chest pains. It’s essentially a heart attack, but one minor enough that we still have time to fix it if we act quickly.”

Calum’s mouth had fallen open in shock because, despite probably fearing most - if not all - of what Dr. Banks was saying on an unconscious level, it was frightening to hear it spoken in such a matter-of-fact tone. He was very grateful that she’d sent his mum outside.

“What do I do then?” Calum mumbled, his dark eyes too wide as his heart pounded in his chest. He thought it might be panic now though but that didn’t make it any easier. The fear inside threatened to engulf him and he forced a faint smile onto his face to hide how badly he wanted to fall apart.

“You’re not a child, Calum, and that’s why I think it’s better not to sugar-coat this,” Dr. Banks said gently and her steely eyes were familiar from a lifetime of visiting the same surgery. “If you don’t receive treatment soon and rapidly change your behaviour - and I mean within the next few weeks - you will die.”

The words were spoken bluntly but Calum’s vision jarred for a moment as he remembered Michael’s bloodied face gazing desperately up at him, his rough: “Now save **yourself** ” before he passed out on the tarmac. Calum couldn’t believe Michael’s sacrifice might be for nothing… couldn’t believe that he was still _dying_.

“But… the treatment,” Calum blurted out, his confusion and panic making him ramble. “The person we talked to at the hospital said there was a massive waiting list for the centre. It was six months, Dr. Banks. I can’t wait six months.” He was starting to panic now, knotting his fingers in his hair as he forced himself to focus on his breathing. He didn’t want to have a panic attack now; he wasn’t sure his exhausted body could cope with it.

“You won’t have to wait six months,” she said firmly and there was something stern in her voice that helped him pull himself together again. “Your mother mentioned that you’ve been harming yourself before she left earlier - correct?” The statement seemed to come out of nowhere and Calum was so surprised that he simply rolled his sleeves back when she gestured, displaying the cuts and scars with nausea unfurling in his stomach. The doctor’s face was carefully blank as she nodded at him to cover them again.

“I’ll believe that you’re a danger to yourself, Calum,” she said and the words shouldn’t have felt like a lifeboat approaching but that didn’t change the fact that they did. “I’m going to see about getting you referred to the clinic as soon as a bed becomes available. Acting quickly might just save your life.”

Joy was called back in after that and, although Dr. Banks summarised what she’d said and made Calum’s mother cry, the dark-haired boy barely processed the words. He was too frightened now; too wrapped up in guilt that he might still lose this battle, and break his promises to Michael and Graham too. Calum didn’t think he could stand the thought of that.

He felt numb when it was time to leave but Dr. Banks stopped him, her silver eyes softer. She gave him a slight smile that made him feel about five years old for a moment, coming in here with a sprained wrist and leaving with a sticker on his jumper. He tried for a faint smile back and her eyes twinkled.

“Do you remember coming to see me when you were ten years old? You broke your foot but everyone thought it was just a slight sprain and you’d been walking around on it for a week?”

“Of course,” Calum said in surprise, watching the older woman quizzically. “How come?”

“You didn’t cry once,” Dr. Banks said. “I remember your mum telling me about it while you were in here. She said you were still playing football on it.” She gave him another smile and this one set Calum’s heart beating more calmly in his chest. “I’m trying to tell you that you’re strong, Calum. _Very_ strong. I know you’re strong enough to get healthy again.”

Calum’s heart hurt again but he thought this time that it might be a good pain because it made him feel alive.

“Thank you,” he murmured but he was watching her curiously now. “Do you remember all of your patients, Dr. Banks?” he asked and her smile brightened as her silvery eyes twinkled.

“Only my favourite ones,” she said softly.

Calum smiled the whole way back to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and, once again, I'm sorry it's so short.  
> More about Cal with his family and how he's feeling next time.  
> Please let me know what you thought <3


	108. Lose Himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _Calum wished he hadn’t promised to try more than anything because letting go would be so easy now. All he had to do was **nothing** because Dr. Banks had said his current behaviour would kill him in the end. Calum could just fade away into nothingness like early morning mist._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I’m really sorry about the wait but I hope you’ll enjoy this!  
> I got sent home from work sick today but at least that gave me the chance to finish this update! It’s sadder than I planned but I think it feels sort of cathartic too, like a lot of this really needed to happen. This also felt super self-indulgent but I’m not even sorry :’)  
> The music that I listened to while writing this chapter was “Farewell Life” by Arn Andersson and Nights Amore. It’s so, so, _so_ beautiful and if you’re into instrumental music then you should totally check this out.
> 
> P.S. If I missed any mistakes then I promise I’ll fix those tomorrow.

**_Don't take my hand because I know in the morning you'll be gone._ **

**_I'm not strong enough to keep myself back from the devil inside._ **

**_I'm not strong enough to keep myself back from the death that I may find._ **

_\- Wilderness, Jacob Riddall_

 

Calum was resigned.

The hospital room was quiet and small, the walls painted a faded green, the blankets tucked in neatly around the mattress. The rain pounded against the windows like bullets. The soft beeping of the machines was lost beneath the distant rumble of thunder and Calum sighed like his heart hurt. Michael’s hand was warm in his, the drip taped in place on the pale skin, the oxygen mask fixed securely to his face. His broken plaster-clad leg made a bulky shape under the blankets but the scrapes on his knuckles were just beginning to heal as Calum cradled the older boy’s hand gently between both of his own.

“I’m so sorry, Mikey,” Calum choked, the tears cooling on his cheeks as the storm drew closer overhead. Lightning split the sky apart and Calum shivered, his dark eyes fixed on the mechanised rise and fall of the older boy’s chest thanks to the life support machine keeping him breathing. It made something wither inside Calum to see how vulnerable Michael was now.

He had no idea how long Michael could survive like this but he hadn’t given up hope. The doctors weren’t willing to turn the life support machine off yet since Michael was still displaying brain activity in the various tests he’d been subjected to and Calum was praying that meant that all hope wasn’t lost; that the person he’d fallen in love with was still locked away inside somewhere.

Calum would do anything to have him back now.

Anything at all.

His phone chimed in his pocket and Calum flinched when it broke the silence, digging it out of his jeans and sighing when he saw the text from his sister. She was leaving home to pick him up now so that probably meant he had about twenty minutes left at the most. Then he’d have to go back home and pretend everything was okay; pretend he felt positive about the appointments he kept having to attend at the doctors while he waited for a bed to become available. Calum hated how much it hurt to pretend to be positive, now that the end was really in sight.

“I won’t be able to visit you every day soon,” the dark-haired boy murmured as he rubbed his thumbs comfortingly into the palm of the older boy’s hand. The skin was soft and pale, and Michael’s cherry-red lips were cracked and slightly parted.

The bandage that had previously been wrapped around his head had been replaced with a dressing now and Calum hated knowing that it was there because of the fracture to his skull, the swelling in his brain. Calum just wanted him to heal and open his eyes again, and not knowing if that was possible or not _ached_.

“I’m going to miss you so much, Mikey, but it’s the only way,” Calum said softly as the lump in his throat threatened to choke him. He felt dizzy and weak as he slumped there in the chair, still holding Michael’s limp hand like a lifeline as the thunder rumbled again overhead. “It’ll be just like I promised you, yeah? I’ll get better and then… and then _you’ll_ get better and… maybe we can finally make this work.” Calum’s voice shook as he spoke but he tried to ignore it, hating the little worm of doubt that insisted Michael didn’t really love him. Calum was starting to believe that the older boy _did_ though, no matter how ridiculously unrealistic that seemed - why else would he have ran in front of a truck for him?

He just wished it hadn’t taken something so terrible to prove it to him.

“I’ve got to stay in this treatment centre the doctor told me about,” Calum continued once the urge to cry had passed a little. “I can’t come out ‘til I’m healthier so I don’t know how long that’ll take because I don’t feel so good at all anymore,” the dark-haired boy admitted. “The centre is called the Windmill Clinic. It’s meant to be symbolic, mum says; something about entering one way and coming out as something different.” Calum shivered as the sky darkened ominously overhead. “I don’t want to come out as a different person,” he whispered and he couldn’t fight the trembling in his hands anymore. He didn’t even try. “I’m so scared that I won’t know who I am anymore. I’ve been this way for so _long_... It’s the only thing I know how to do.”

Michael’s face remained vacant and blank but that didn’t stop Calum from gazing at him hopelessly, praying for the tiniest flicker of life. Michael’s green eyes remained stubbornly shut and the beeping of the machines stayed the same. His heart rate was calm and even on the monitor. Calum bowed his head as the tears in his eyes boiled over.

“I don’t think I can do this without you, Mikey,” he breathed and the words had never felt more like giving up than they did now; like the music was swelling to a crescendo and Calum needed to step up - needed to _win_ this battle - but he didn’t think he was brave enough on his own. He needed Michael to lean on and now there was no one he trusted anymore - not entirely at least - and Calum felt like he was plummeting without a parachute.

He had no hope of slowing down his descent now and it completely terrified him, the fear eating away inside his chest.

Calum hadn’t been doing so well lately. He knew his body was slowly beginning to shut down now but that didn’t make him want to take better care of himself; on the contrary, he was worse than ever. It felt like he’d given up on fighting because he knew the control was going to be taken away from him soon and the panic burnt him when he realised that the inevitable was finally happening: he was going to be made to put weight on and he was terrified that he wouldn’t be able to cope with it.

Calum was at his absolute lowest and he’d decided that it didn’t matter if he ran himself into the ground anymore. The clinic would have to pick up the pieces and put him back together again anyway; what did it matter if he was worse than they’d initially realised by the time he arrived?

It seemed like the perfect coping mechanism right up until the point Calum remembered Michael pleading with him to save himself as the fire in his eyes flickered out… remembered the promise he’d made to Graham. Calum wished he hadn’t promised to try more than anything because letting go would be so easy now. All he had to do was **nothing** because Dr. Banks had said his current behaviour would kill him in the end. Calum could just fade away into nothingness like early morning mist.

The soft familiar beeping of Michael’s monitors filtered through the scary numbness that had settled over Calum and he swallowed past the nausea twisting inside him as he remembered what he’d said to Graham that night in the hospital: “ _I won't let this be for nothing. I won't let this be a waste. I'm gonna get better so when Mikey gets better, he can be proud of me. I'm not just going to try. I'm going to beat this. I'm going to beat this so fucking hard because nobody matters like Michael does. No one even comes **close**_.”

The words remained true even now - they probably always _would_ be - and Calum was crying a little bit, the tears racing each other down his cheeks as he gazed at Michael’s vacant face, taking in his eyelashes fanning out on his cheeks and the graze on his cheekbone. He was so beautiful but he looked lifeless too, the stillness and serenity of his empty face chilling Calum to the bone. Michael was clinging to life by only the most tenuous of threads and Calum never wanted him to let go.

“Mum gave me chicken soup last night and I actually finished it,” the dark-haired boy said quietly. “It reminded me of that night when I stayed at Graham’s with you though; do you remember?” A shiver ran through Calum and he closed his eyes against the tears. “I can’t forget it,” he murmured. “It made me cry so much I couldn’t even breathe properly and then I choked on my soup. Harry had to hit me on the back and everything. It was a bit pathetic actually.”

Calum tried to smile but it slid from his face like water and he swallowed audibly, his shoulders slumping like he was carrying the greatest weight of all.

“Is that who I am now?” Calum muttered and he was trying to smile but it felt too much like he’d been kicked in the chest. “Am I someone who gets triggered by chicken soup?”

Michael would probably have laughed at that if he’d been awake. Calum missed him so much it hurt.

“There’s going to be a bed available for me in two weeks,” the dark-haired boy admitted in a whisper and the fear lacing his voice was threatening to choke him now but he forced it down, inhaling deeply as he stroked the pale skin of Michael’s hand again. He timed his breathing with the steady rise and fall of Michael’s chest, hating that there were broken ribs hidden under the blankets and the fact that the older boy’s fingers were limp in his. Calum would have given anything for Michael to squeeze his hand back because, even when they’d torn each other apart and the ashes were drifting gently to the ground, Calum still couldn’t live without him.

“I’m so scared, Mikey,” the younger boy choked out and he hated the tears burning in his eyes almost as much as he hated Michael being trapped in here, locked away inside his head. “I’m so sorry you got hurt for me. I’m so sorry that you were even there to see me like that. I should have just jumped as soon as I got there. I should have…” His voice trailed away and Calum fought down on the self-hatred; tried to breathe and remember without hating himself like his mum had been pleading with him to do… like Graham had insisted that night at the hospital: “ _I don’t blame you. This isn’t your fault, Calum. You didn’t make Michael do this. He chose to. This isn’t your fault._ ”

Calum released a shaky breath, ghosting the palm of his hand lightly over the pale skin of Michael’s forearm, careful to avoid the bruises and the scrapes from the tarmac. He watched the goosebumps rising on the skin and his heart shuddered in his chest when the sudden realisation that Michael was still in there slowly crept in; that maybe Michael could _hear_ him… that maybe Calum was still hurting him without meaning to even now.

“I should never have let things get so bad in the first place,” Calum whispered and the words felt truer than any others he’d spoken today. “I should have told you that night at the party that I was afraid but that I loved you back. Then you might still have felt the same. Then I might not have _lost_ you…”

Calum felt lonelier than he ever had as the rain poured down the windows.

“Then you’d still be here,” he breathed. His phone chimed again in his pocket and Calum knew Mali was waiting for him now; knew she was out there in the car park with her careful words and strained smiles. Calum gave Michael’s hand one last squeeze before he got stiffly to his feet, wrapping his arms tightly around himself through the thick crimson jumper he was wearing.

“Why couldn’t I talk to you like this when you were awake?” Calum asked despondently, but ‘awake’ sounded too much like ‘alive’ and the tears welled up again. “I miss you, Mikey,” the dark-haired boy breathed and he pressed a soft kiss to Michael’s forehead before he turned to leave. “I miss you so much it hurts.”

When Michael’s eyes fluttered beneath their lids, Calum convinced himself it was wishful thinking. “I’ll come back before I go to the clinic,” the dark-haired boy said from the doorway. “I promise, Mikey. Just keep holding on, okay?”

Calum struggled to get a grip on his emotions as he jogged down the numerous flights of stairs, losing himself in the repetitive exercise for the few short minutes it took. The rain was pouring harder when Calum finally made it outside and he cursed himself for not having brought a coat as he hurried to his sister’s car. She was waiting in the drop-off area for him, her dark eyes tired as the windscreen wipers squeaked across the glass, brushing the raindrops aside.

Harry hadn’t chosen to come today and Calum was oddly grateful for that because, as nice as the older man was, Calum felt too exhausted to appreciate it now. He just wanted to sit quietly for a little while and lose himself in the rain.

“Hey, squirt,” Mali murmured, reaching out to brush her fingers gently through his damp curls before she maneuvered the car back out onto the road. “How was it today? Mikey still sleeping?”

“Yeah,” Calum whispered, picking at the damp material of his jumper as he sank back in the seat. She reminded him to strap himself in and he did as she asked, swallowing past the anxiety he could feel building inside when he glanced over at her, taking in the concentration on her face and the gentleness saturating her expression.

“I tried to kill myself that night on the bridge,” Calum said out of nowhere. The thunder was quieter overhead now and Mali pressed her lips together hard as she drove, the grey light filtering into the car and filling the hollow in Calum’s chest. Mali’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel but she didn’t look away from the damp road, too focused on keeping him safe.

“I know,” she said after what felt like a long time, her eyes growing damp although she kept her voice steady. “Mum guessed. We… we talked about it.” Her hand was trembling when she reached to give his knee a gentle squeeze and she seemed to sense the unspoken question in her brother’s eyes. “We didn’t think you’d want to talk about it right now,” she said softly. “You have enough going on at the moment without us making things worse… and I reckon I’ve done enough of that to last a lifetime now. I just want to help you feel _better_ , Cally. You deserve to feel okay again.”

Calum stared out into the rain as she spoke, soaking up the words like a sponge as his heart ached painfully with all the love he could feel. He couldn’t speak but he thought maybe Mali knew how he felt anyway and she confirmed it when she reached to lace their fingers together when they stopped at the traffic lights.

“I’ve been doing some reading online about recovering from… from eating disorders,” Mali said quietly. She stumbled over the last few words and the pain in her voice hurt but Calum still couldn’t look at her; the shame and sadness welling inside were too much for him. “I found this one article that talked more about the body dysmorphia side of things,” she continued as she took a right turn, driving them in the wrong direction from their house. Calum shot her a wary look. “The article suggested, like, getting someone to take a picture of you in just your underwear so you can see what you actually look like? Apparently it’s very helpful, especially to have a hard copy of the picture, because it makes it easier to accept that you have an eating disorder. Like a reality check I guess.”

“That sounds vaguely like you’re trying to convince me to take nudes, Mali,” Calum muttered because making a stupid joke was easier than actually considering the idea. It made him feel sick just to think about letting someone see him like that, when he was as fat and scarred and disgusting as he was. It felt like a cruel joke even to suggest it.

“I’d do it if you wanted me to,” Mali said quietly but, wisely, she chose not to make another comment about it. “Anyway, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not taking us straight home.” She looked a little more relaxed now and Calum glanced over at her curiously, shivering a little when she hit the button to make the windows roll down. The rain started to pour in and Calum wrapped his arms around himself tightly, trembling in the cold.

“Mali, what’re you doing?” he objected weakly and she gave him a fleeting wry smile. “Why are we on the freeway?” Her hair was fluttering around in the wind and she looked content as the icy drops splattered inside the car.

“Scream out the window,” she said and he frowned at her, probably gawping in confusion as he looked at her, taking in how wild she looked in the storm as the car raced along the tarmac, kicking up clouds of water.

“Don’t you remember when I first learnt to drive?” Mali asked in a fake-wounded tone. “I was the age you are now and I used to drive us out onto the freeway whenever we were stressed or scared. Like when dad used to shout, right?” Calum nodded hesitantly and Mali tightened her grip on the steering wheel as the rain splashed onto Calum’s face like tears.

“We used to drive into the middle of nowhere just to scream,” Calum remembered faintly and Mali’s smile was warm as she reached out to hold his hand as she kept her eyes fixed on the road. He felt like that had happened in another life now but it didn’t hurt to think about it; he almost _missed_ it.

“So scream, Cal,” she said and the wind was picking up outside now but Calum didn’t care that the rain was battering against him through the window; it made him feel alive. “I’ll do it with you too, okay? Because you’re not alone. You’ll never be on your own ever again.” She was still holding his hand and Calum squeezed it back as raw _love_ flooded his chest like rising water.

“Scream,” Mali said gently. “Just scream.”

It started off quiet and half-hearted, just this little wailing sound that made him laugh at himself without meaning to, and then Mali gave an ear-splitting shriek that made Calum clap his hands over his ears, even as he screamed too. It was easier when he put his head out of the window because the wind stole his voice and the raindrops soaked him, and his throat was sore and his lungs ached, and he was screaming and Mali was screaming, and then they were laughing and the car was rolling to a stop in the muddy layby as the other vehicles on the road flew past, and Calum’s eyes were welling with tears as he giggled weakly into his sister’s neck, just clutching at her as she hugged him tightly.

“Feel any better?” she asked curiously and Calum looked up at her for a moment, his chocolate brown eyes glinting faintly in the grey light.

“It helped a little bit,” he admitted softly and Mali smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“It helps to have coping mechanisms that aren’t self-destructive,” she said and he wondered if this was from another one of her articles before he realised there was no point in being prickly. She’d read them because she cared about him - because she wanted to help him feel better about himself - and Calum calmed against her as the fight drained out of him.

He let his forehead fall to rest on her shoulder and she hummed contentedly as she carded her fingers through his limp rain-wet hair, the touch familiar and comforting. His sore arms ached when he hugged her tighter and, although he hadn’t told her about the self-harming, he thought she might have guessed.

“You ready to go home now, squirt? See what mum and Harry have got up to while we were out?” she suggested and Calum bit his bottom lip, nodding hesitantly.

“Can we stop on the way home though?” he asked carefully, digging his battered wallet out of his pocket and vaguely checking how much money he had. “I want to bring mum some flowers.”

“You used to pick her out bouquets when you were little,” Mali said with a soft smile playing across her lips as she carefully rejoined the freeway, the car splashing up muddy puddles as they picked up speed. “We used to go down to the market on Saturday mornings with her while dad was playing golf and you’d always get me to distract her while you spent your money on the flowers.” She shook her head fondly as she remembered and Calum felt something calm in his chest.

“I’m surprised you remembered that,” he said and Mali smiled softly.

“No one could forget you, squirt,” she said firmly, kindly pretending not to notice when he had to wipe his eyes. “Mum’s going to love this though honestly. It’s really sweet of you.” Calum smiled bashfully and it took longer to fade than usual and, when the numbness _did_ roll back over him, it didn’t feel anywhere near as crushing as it sometimes did.

Calum was going to count that one as a win.

Mali parked the car carefully in the driveway and Calum took a deep breath, preparing himself for the inevitable fussing he would receive when he walked through the door. It was hard to be annoyed about it though, no matter how suffocating it could sometimes feel, because Joy was about to lose her son for what might well be _months_ and he hadn’t let her look after him in so long now anyway. Calum owed her this much.

She opened the front door when she saw the two of them trudging up the driveway through the puddles but it was only when Calum darted ahead to give his mum the bouquet of lilac freesias that he realised the rain had stopped falling.

“Oh, baby,” Joy murmured, her eyes filling with tears as she drew him into a gentle hug on the doorstep. Calum’s cheeks heated a little bit but he couldn’t help feeling proud of himself when Mali shot him a smug smile as she continued into the house. The dark-haired boy was content to stay outside for a moment though; Joy was hugging him too comfortingly for Calum to even consider wriggling away and the familiar smell of her perfume made his eyes sting for a moment as he thought about the prospect of leaving her.

Through everything that had happened to him, Joy had been his one constant and Calum was going to miss her a ridiculous amount. No matter how often she came to visit him, it wouldn’t be the same. Calum felt closer to her now than he ever had, especially now that Mali was back with Harry and Joy would soon be left alone. It felt like his mum needed all the support she could get because Joy and Mali were still clashing no matter how hard they tried to get along. (When Calum was having one of the days where he felt less dazed, he felt sorry for Harry being sucked into the middle of this. He really _must_ love Mali.)

“Come inside, love,” Joy said softly, coaxing Calum from his thoughts. “You’re shivering. Why don’t you have a nice shower while I make dinner?” Calum fought down on his panic at the mention of food, aware that she wouldn’t force him to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with. She didn’t give him very big portions at all now - she’d read that it was important to gradually increase the amount he was eating instead of all at once to avoid refeeding syndrome - but Calum was trying not to dwell on it.

He just rubbed his thumb over the scrape on his knuckle that his teeth made when he was purging and tried to pretend that he hadn’t lost control.

Two weeks. Calum just had to hold it together for two more weeks.

He pressed a fleeting kiss to his mum’s cheek before he stumbled upstairs, heading for the bathroom and waving distractedly at Harry who was just emerging from where he’d presumably been having a nap in Mali’s room.

“Hey, Calum,” Harry said and the dark-haired boy managed a wan smile as he grabbed his towel from the banister, shutting himself in the tiled room swiftly. He let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding in and pointedly kept himself from looking at the spot where he’d spent so many hours kneeling as he scraped the inside of his throat raw.

The water was hot when it pounded down against his skin and Calum felt a little bit better when the smell of the hospital was washed from his skin. He could still feel Michael’s hand carefully cradled in his own if he thought about it and Calum’s tears were washed away in the hot water as he lathered the coconut shampoo in his hair that would always remind him of the older boy.

He wasn’t sure he had the energy to get out of the shower because that meant sitting in the kitchen with his family while Joy cooked, trying to ignore the worried glances everyone shot him when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. He hated mealtimes for a different reason now; not because he was afraid of David exploding but because he hated feeling like he was disappointing the people he cared about.

He hadn’t once sat down to eat with everyone else but Joy always sat with him in front of the television while he struggled to eat his food in a way that he’d never been allowed to do before. She never watched him to make sure he was eating but she squeezed his knee comfortingly that evening and said terrible things like: “I trust you, Calum. I believe you can do this” and Calum might have hated those words but he hated letting her down more. He remembered again Michael’s last words to him, and he spooned the soup shakily into his mouth and hated himself violently, and he carried on anyway.

Calum knocked on Mali’s bedroom door that night. Harry had gone downstairs to take a phone call and Joy was getting an early night, and Calum felt small as he timidly let himself into his sister's bedroom. Mali was sitting on the bed brushing her hair, dressed in what seemed to be a pair of Harry’s pants and one of her old pyjama tops. She looked sleepy and soft but she was watching Calum quizzically as he stood there awkwardly in the doorway, wearing nothing but his boxers and a dressing gown.

“I was thinking about what you said earlier… in the car.” Calum rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, hating how uncomfortable he felt now. He was sure he looked fat and disgusting, and he was afraid of the moment when his self-harm was confirmed to her but he thought he owed her this much. “I wondered if you still wanted to do that for me.”

Mali gave him a soft look but her eyes were blazing with love and pride.

“Of course I do, squirt,” she said gently. “But only if you’re sure, okay? I don’t want it to freak you out or make you feel worse or -”

“It’s alright,” he interjected in a soft voice, biting his lip for a moment before he gave her an awkward shrug. “I trust you.” He forced a faint smile onto his face and her lips tugged up into a weak grin as she tossed her hair brush back onto the bed. “Gonna get your camera then?” he prompted and Mali stuck her tongue out at his impatience.

“Give me a second,” she reprimanded but she was smiling albeit hesitantly as she turned to face him, cradling the Polaroid camera carefully between her hands. She’d had manicured fingernails once but they were bitten short now and Calum found himself staring at them for a moment. He found it strange that she could change in all these tiny insignificant ways and come back home a whole new person; it was like someone had sculpted her through a looking glass and changed her in ways so subtle that it took Calum a little while to notice them... felt like her soul had slipped inside this new body and now he had to relearn all of the things that made her feel ever so slightly new to him.

It was disconcerting and strange, and oddly hopeful. It made Calum feel like maybe he could come out of this and still be recognisable as the person he’d been before, only without quite so many destructive tendencies hopefully. That was probably the best outcome he could hope for.

“How do you want to do this then?” Mali asked softly and there was no sarcasm or teasing now; her face was deadly serious and Calum didn’t like that he could see the faintest hint of fear in her eyes. She didn’t deserve to be afraid now.

“I guess just… quickly,” the dark-haired boy muttered as he pushed the door shut shakily behind him. “To get it out of the way before I have a chance to overthink this.”

Mali was still smiling wryly at his answer when he took the dressing gown off, his hands immediately falling to hide his stomach. His ribs were still a little bruised from when David had pushed him down the stairs but Mali’s eyes immediately fell to trace his scars.

Calum looked down at them as though he was seeing them all for the first time too and he hated that some were so obviously burns; hated the **_PERFECT_** cut into his skin, and the thousands of scars carved into his wrists and thighs. Calum’s hands trembled as he twisted his fingers nervously in the soft material of his boxers but it did little to calm him down when Mali was looking at him like that.

“Oh,” she said quietly, the word little more than a breath as her grip on the camera tightened enough that her knuckles went white. Calum squared his jaw, fighting not to cry as she took in the dangerous jut of his ribs and the cuts lining his skin. Her eyes settled on the newer cuts in the crook of his left arm and her face crumpled although she didn’t break the strained silence that had fallen.

Maybe she didn’t know how.

“You ready?” she choked out after a long moment, her voice slightly strangled, and Calum swallowed audibly, drying his eyes hard with the back of his hand before he nodded, flattening his back against the cool wood of the door like he was facing a firing squad which was what this felt like: he couldn’t imagine anything scarier than facing his demons head on.

“As I’ll ever be,” Calum breathed and the ghost of a proud smile touched Mali’s lips as she raised the camera shakily to take the picture. The click sounded loud in the silence and Calum shivered, kneeling quickly to pick up the dressing gown from where he’d discarded it on the floor. He struggled back into it and turned his back on his sister to fasten it, hating the moment when he knew he’d have to turn round and face her again.

He could just leave the room and not mention this again of course but that felt like cheating. She’d come all the way back from a place that made her very happy just for him; he owed her honesty now.

“Perfect?” It was unbelievable how much pain Mali managed to inject into that one syllable but the scar on Calum’s leg gave a phantom throb as she spoke. He wondered if she was thinking of Black Swan too and he found himself hoping she hadn’t made that connection; the shame welling inside felt like it was choking him.

He turned to face her with his hands balled into fists, struggling to act like he felt braver than he did. The numbness he felt wasn’t enough to mask his pain now but Calum was trying to pretend that it wasn’t tearing him to pieces. He’d been so scared that she’d be crying when he turned to face her; that she’d try to hug him and only succeed in making him feel worse.

He wasn’t expecting to see her simply sitting there with the picture held carefully between her fingers and a dazed look on her face. There were faint tear-tracks glistening on her cheeks but she didn’t seem to be aware of them as she handed him the picture. Calum put it in the pocket of his dressing gown without looking at it and she pressed her lips together hard to keep her emotions in check.

“Thank you,” the dark-haired boy said roughly, turning so fast he got dizzy as he opened the door swiftly. Mali murmured his name and Calum hesitated in the doorway, his fingers biting into the frame as a shudder rippled through him. “What is it?” he asked but he stiffened when Mali’s hand settled gently on his shoulder through the dressing gown he was bundled up in.

“You’ve always been perfect to me, squirt,” she whispered as she pressed a soft kiss to his dark curls. “You always will be.”

A lump rose in Calum’s throat and he gave her a watery smile as he hurried back to his own room, shutting the bedroom door firmly before he let himself cry. He threw the dressing gown into a crumpled heap on the floor and struggled into his pyjamas, and he’d already been huddled up beneath his duvet in tears for almost twenty minutes, feeling fat and disgusting as his stomach knotted nervously, when Calum remembered the picture his sister had taken for him.

He carried the Polaroid back to his bed and sat cross-legged on the duvet, and the déjà vu he felt was stifling as he remembered that night when he’d looked through old photos before Mali came to tell him she was leaving home.

It was hard to believe how much had changed now. Calum couldn’t believe she was back.

His dark eyes drifted unwillingly to the picture and the breath he’d been holding in escaped him in a shocked gasp. To say that the contents of the image surprised him would be an enormous understatement because… fuck, Calum looked _terrible_... like the survivor of some dreadful war except… god, Calum had done that to _himself_.

He was fracturing bones wrapped in thin skin and the dark-haired boy felt sicker than he ever had as he stared at himself in shock. He didn’t know why looking at a picture made it easy to see the truth when seeing himself in the mirror made it almost impossible but he couldn’t tear his horrified gaze away from the picture.

His bones looked brittle and fragile, like they were about to cut right through his skin, and Calum suddenly understood the absolute terror that had saturated the faces of the people he loved when he caught them looking at him sometimes, too scared to voice what they were afraid of… except now Calum knew the truth.

They were afraid of him.

He stared at the picture until his vision went blurry with tears and the exhaustion he felt threatened to overwhelm him, and only then did Calum hide the Polaroid in a drawer and reach out to turn the lamp off before he fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next two weeks were difficult for Calum.

They passed in a blur of visiting Michael, forced cheeriness with his family, and horrified glimpses of the Polaroid he’d taken to carrying around in his wallet. Calum’s suitcase was packed now and he found himself looking at it sometimes, just sitting on the edge of his bed until late into the night as he thought about what it meant; thought about how much his whole _life_ was about to change.

On the last night before he travelled to the hospital the next day, Calum couldn’t sleep.

His anxiety ate away at him inside until he felt sick and anxious with it, and Calum’s panic made him tremble as he curled up into a tight ball, wearing the same pyjamas he’d had for years now as the tears leaked down his cheeks despite him squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

It had to be almost two in the morning and they’d be leaving at eight tomorrow so that they’d arrive by nine which was when he had to check in by. They made it sound like some kind of luxury hotel and Calum tried to laugh but he was crying too hard as he punched his pillow weakly, so filled with desperation that he didn’t know how to get it out anymore.

Finally, he decided to just go downstairs and get a drink of water; maybe do some sit-ups in the living room until he was tired. He knew he probably wouldn’t get the chance for spontaneous exercise at the treatment centre so he figured he might as well make use of his time now, no matter how detrimental it was to think ‘just one last time’.

He was already stumbling across the landing in the darkness when the faint sounds of crying reached his ears. Calum froze in the dark, trying to work out where it was coming from before he realised it was his mum. His heart sank in his chest and Calum was shaking as he came to a wary stop outside her door, knocking gently on the painted wood.

The crying coming from inside was cut off with a choked sob and Calum opened the door without waiting for her to invite him in. The curtains were open and the silvery light made the room look like it was underwater when Calum stepped into his parents’ room hesitantly, glancing at the desk covered with makeup products and the open wardrobe doors that still displayed some of David’s clothes. Calum wondered when his father was going to come back for them and felt something dark unfurling in his chest.

“Mum?” Calum breathed when his eyes settled on her. She was wearing a soft flowery nightie and she looked so small as she sat huddled up in the double bed with the duvet pooling around her waist. The material was satiny and Calum didn’t know how much he liked it as he crawled onto the bed beside her, wriggling his way under the duvet. “Mum, what’s wrong?”

Joy’s cheeks were flaming at having been caught in tears but she still opened her arms for him and a soft sigh escaped her when he settled down against her chest, tucking his head away beneath her chin as she pressed a gentle kiss to his soft curls. Her arms slipped carefully around his bruised ribs and she rocked him gently, humming a faintly familiar tune under her breath.

It soon became evident that Joy wasn’t going to answer the question but Calum wondered if he could blame her. After all, she wasn’t exactly having an easy time of it at the moment. Her only son was being admitted to a treatment centre for his eating disorder, her estranged daughter had just come back home after a year of absence, and her abusive husband had left but would almost certainly return one day, if only to prove that he still held power over her.

Calum wondered how Joy was brave enough to carry on at all.

She was still humming softly as she stroked his hair and Calum blinked in surprise when he realised the tears were drying sticky on his cheeks as Joy held him closer, like she could tell they both needed the comfort.

“What song is that?” Calum whispered after a long moment. “I feel like I know it but I don’t know how.”

Joy made a small sound of surprise but she was smiling a tiny bit as she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s a lullaby I used to sing you when you were a baby,” she murmured. “It’s called Morningtown Ride.” She was still stroking his hair but one of her hands had slipped to rub his back comfortingly and Calum felt his anxiety abating a little as he relaxed onto the mattress beside her.

“You could never sleep through the night when you were a baby,” Joy said softly into the darkness. “You always used to cry at around three o’clock so I’d sit in the rocking chair in your room and I’d sing you the song until you fell asleep again. Sometimes it took hours but it was always worth it. I loved sitting with you like that. You just used to stare up at me like I was your whole world with those beautiful chocolate brown eyes.” Joy smiled like her heart was breaking in her chest as she cupped his hollow cheek gently in her palm. “My lovely baby,” she murmured.

“I’m seventeen,” Calum said because he was quite worried he was about to start crying.

“You’ll always be my baby,” Joy said but she sounded less like she was about to break down sobbing now and Calum was glad of that. The tears rolled down her cheeks when she smiled at him and the dark-haired boy cuddled closer, taking in the way her eyelashes fluttered on her cheek and the laughter lines around her eyes. He loved her so much his chest ached.

“Will you sing the song now?” he breathed and something jarred in Joy’s face - became heartbroken and melancholy and _adoring_ \- and Calum was glad he hadn’t been able to sleep tonight. He was glad they had this moment together now.

She gave him a shy little nod and Calum closed his eyes, rightfully assuming that it would be easier for her to sing if he wasn’t watching her like that. She was still calming him down by rubbing his back and he could almost feel the coolness of the moonlight settling comfortingly in his bones, giving him strength and making him feel more peaceful than he had in a long time.

“ _Train whistle blowing; makes a sleepy noise. Underneath their blankets go all the girls and boys. Rocking, rolling, riding out along the bay, all bound for Morningtown many miles away._ ”

The words drifted over him like waves and it made him feel like a kid again, where the only safe place he was sure of was his mother’s arms as the shadows stretched darkly around him. Joy had always done her best to keep him safe before though and he trusted her now; trusted that this clinic was a good thing intended to help him and not the terrifying prison it felt like.

“ _Driver at the engine; fireman rings the bell; sand man swings the lantern to show that all is well. Rocking, rolling, riding out along the bay, all bound for Morningtown many miles away._ ”

She kissed his forehead again, almost like she could tell he was working himself up over this, and the tension bled out of his shoulders like snowmelt as he relaxed into her arms again. She smelt like flowers and laundry detergent, and he vowed to buy her more freesias when he got out of the treatment centre.

He’d buy her all the flowers in the world if he could.

“ _Maybe it is raining where our train will ride; all the little travellers are warm and snug inside. Rocking, rolling, riding out along the bay, all bound for Morningtown many miles away._ ”

The song was stirring memories inside Calum that felt too painful to put into words now; brief flashes of a childhood he had long ago buried in darkness. He remembered playing in the garden in the sunlight for a moment; remembered a tiny Mali’s excited face when he staggered clumsily after her before Joy swooped down to pick him up, spinning him in a circle and making him laugh delightedly before she lifted Mali onto her hip too, peppering her children’s faces with kisses.

“ _Somewhere there is sunshine; somewhere there is day. Somewhere there is Morningtown many miles away._ ”

He remembered Christmases and birthday parties, and how Joy loved her children with her whole heart. He remembered when she took him and Mali to the beach with the rickety old pier, and how she made sure to hold both of their hands tightly so that they wouldn’t get lost in the waves as Calum excitedly pointed out pretty pebbles and Mali shrieked at the seagulls wheeling overhead.

Calum remembered Joy laughing like the sound was a wave swelling inside her, desperate to get out somehow because she never got the chance to laugh at home with her husband.

Calum remembered the way she didn’t look like she was slowly fracturing that morning on the beach, where it was just the sea and the clouds, and **them**. He remembered how she made him feel safe.

“ _Rocking, rolling, riding out along the bay, all bound for Morningtown many miles away._ ”

The song was coming to an end now - Calum could tell in the way her voice grew softer as her palms slowed their gentle rubbing on his back - but it didn’t really matter because Calum couldn’t keep his eyes open now, and he still felt desolate and more frightened than he ever had, but he didn’t feel alone anymore.

Calum thought that maybe he never would again.

The last thing he saw before his eyes fell shut was how content Joy looked as she settled down more comfortably on the pillows beside him, holding her last-born child to her chest where she knew beyond doubt that he was safe.

The moonlight faded to black as sleep rose up to take him and Calum sank into it with ease as his mother sang one last line of the lullaby:

“ _All bound for Morningtown many miles away._ ”

When Calum fell asleep in her arms that night, he finally felt whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> The song Joy sings at the end of this chapter is a lullaby my mum and my nan used to sing to me when I was little, and I got really ridiculously emotional writing this update. I wanted to show how important family can be and I really hope I did that justice.  
> I’d love to hear what you all thought <3


	109. Burst To Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _“I’m never going to stop trying, Mikey,” Calum breathed as he dropped another kiss onto the older boy’s knuckles. “I promise.”_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I’m sorry this took so long but I really wanted to get it right which meant I had to do lots of research. I found this link particularly helpful if any of you are curious: http://www.seedeatingdisorders.org.uk/blog/inpatient-treatment  
> Also the lyrics I used for this update are really special to me. This song is about anorexia and my mum - the person I’m close to who I mentioned suffers an eating disorder - finds this song really encouraging so I figured maybe Calum would too.
> 
> P.S. If there are any mistakes I’ve missed, I promise I’ll fix that tomorrow. I’m so tired now but I really wanted to get this updated for you.

**_I won't cry for yesterday._ **

**_There's an ordinary world,_ **

**_Somehow I have to find,_ **

**_And as I try to make my way,_ **

**_To the ordinary world,_ **

**_I will learn to survive._ **

_\- Ordinary World, Duran Duran_

 

Calum’s world changed irrevocably when he went to the Windmill Clinic.

The days ran like clockwork and his new routine felt like the only thing keeping him sane sometimes, although Calum hadn’t always felt that way. He’d hated it at first; couldn’t stand the monotony of taking medication, having group therapy, and the seemingly endless goal setting that only ever grated on his nerves. Everything had felt so neat and ordered that, by contrast, Calum had felt wilder than ever; like an unexploded firework that was about to burst apart at the slightest provocation.

He hated being weighed and the blood tests he was subjected to every few days to ensure that he wasn’t at risk of refeeding syndrome; hated that he had to expose his scars because that was just another note added to his care plan. He hated the little plastic cup of medication and the watchful eye of his Key Worker during meal-times in his private room before he’d been brave enough to eat with the rest of the patients in the communal dining room. He hated his therapy sessions and the way his Key Worker had to cajole him into getting out of bed in the mornings. He hated discussing his care plan and the matter-of-fact way his dietician increased his diet, and the worried but hopeful expressions on his mother and sister’s faces when they came to see him in the evenings during visiting hours.

One of the more surprising things that Calum struggled with was the fact that he wasn’t allowed to drink as much water as he had been before. The official reason was that water-loading could be uncomfortable for the patients but he was certain it was because it would influence his weight during the morning weighing sessions (and although he wished they’d believe he weighed more than he did so that he’d be able to go home, he was starting to realise how unhealthy this way of thinking was now).

The real turning point for Calum was a fortnight into his stay at the clinic when he spoke to another patient with anything more than common courtesy for the first time. She was small with bright red hair, probably only fifteen or so, and she stayed in the room opposite his. She was dressed in baggy grey sweatpants and a loose-fitting jumper but her sky blue eyes were as fiery as her hair when she bumped into him coming out of his room one afternoon for a group therapy session.

“It’s Calum, right?” she asked, her accent thicker than his. She flashed him a tired sort of smile and Calum’s lips twitched humourlessly as he nodded at her. He thought she looked scarily thin as she stood in front of him but, with a sickening jolt, he realised he could look no better. The Polaroid still tucked away in his wallet was proof of that.

“Yep,” he said dryly as he fell into step beside her, both of them heading for the communal living area. “I’m sorry; I don’t remember your name. My head is kind of a mess right now.”

“I feel your pain,” she replied but her eyes twinkled a little and Calum found himself brightening despite his exhaustion. “My name’s Gloria. Awful, isn’t it? I’m named after my grandma. I don’t know what my mum was thinking.” She was still watching him hopefully and Calum found himself smiling despite himself.

“That it’s a name that sounds strong?” Calum suggested and Gloria sobered a little, her smile becoming softer and more sincere, like the words meant a lot. His Key Worker Corey gave him an encouraging smile when he saw that Calum was talking to other people as he passed them in the corridor and the dark-haired boy’s lips twitched into an unwilling half-smile. Gloria gave him a long look.

“Can I give you some advice, Calum?” she asked and the dark-haired boy shrugged jerkily before nodding. Gloria’s lips twitched. “That’s good because I was going to anyway,” she said, making him huff out a breath of laughter despite himself.

“What’s the advice?” he asked as the pair of them found seats at one of the tables in the airy room. A few other patients were also joining them and Calum returned their murmured greetings as they waited expectantly for their group therapist - a kind old woman named Mary - to arrive in the room.

“Don’t fight them,” Gloria said and her blue eyes were fierce in her freckled face, reminding the dark-haired boy of Luke for a fleeting moment; of Ashton with his immovable strength. Gloria gave Calum a reprimanding poke in the chest and his heart sank when he saw how young she looked because it sucked so badly that she was stuck in here too. “Stop fighting the system. The people who work here want to _help_ you, Calum. They only have your best interests at heart. Once you accept that, this is going to be so much easier.”

Calum bit his bottom lip as the words slowly sank in and his heart sped up in his chest when he realised she was right. She seemed to see the acceptance on his face because she gave him a smile that was equal parts sympathetic and smug, and then waved a greeting at Mary who had just appeared with a basket of craft materials in her arms. She looked just as bright and cheerful as usual but Calum found it less irritating today, and he saw the smugness winning out on Gloria’s face when she saw his expression softening.

“Told you,” Gloria said, poking her tongue out at him. “Things are going to get a lot better.”

Possibly against the odds, Calum believed her.

He found it easier to talk to the other patients after that; became interested in their stories and their hobbies, and what their lives outside of the Windmill Clinic were like. The outside world was starting to feel like another planet but Calum felt safe in the treatment centre now.

He had a better relationship with his Key Worker from that point on and Corey seemed proud of him which made their discussions easier. They talked about diet changes and meal plans for day or home leave - still just a distant idea at the moment although Calum was excited but apprehensive for when this would become a reality. They’d even started discussing the option of Calum serving himself food at mealtimes now and he figured it would probably sound ridiculous to someone else but it was such a huge deal to him: the idea that he could actually take control of this and make it something he was more comfortable with.

“You really think I can do it, Corey?” Calum asked nervously as he sat on his bed, his fingers drumming anxiously on the mattress as his Key Worker sat down at the desk, leaning back in the swivel chair as he glanced at the clipboard he was carrying.

“Course I do, Calum,” Corey said brightly, his dimples creasing his cheeks when he smiled reassuringly. He’d dyed his hair a ridiculously bright yellow a week before - something about a dare with his friends - and Calum found it strange to think that life still went on for everyone outside of the centre. He felt removed from it now almost; like it was an exciting TV show that he’d missed the last few episodes of, and now he was playing catch up.

“The staff will be there to help you anyway,” Corey continued cheerfully, flashing his white teeth in a smile when Calum gave him a relieved look. “Just to make sure everyone’s comfortable and no restriction occurs. It’s still a controlled environment so you don’t need to be too worried. Baby steps, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Calum breathed but he felt less scared now which was nice. He figured Gloria would probably be proud of him. The nurse raked a hand through his short dyed hair and Calum smirked despite himself.

“You still have Eminem hair,” he said and Corey grimaced as he loped towards the door.

“Well, we can’t all have luscious locks like you, buddy,” he teased as he waved goodbye, heading back towards the office to write up notes of what they’d discussed. Calum smiled a little despite the fact that he was alone as his fingers rose to tug lightly through his curls. They were growing back thicker now - Mali had noticed it too the last time she’d visited - and he felt healthier in himself.

He didn't always feel so positive though.

The worst times were when he was in the shower or lying in bed at night because then there was nothing to distract him from his intrusive thoughts. The only defence he had were the exercises his therapist Zoe had helped him come up with which, admittedly, could be very effective when he put his mind to it.

Calum calmed himself by writing in his journal - every patient was encouraged to do this but he found it especially useful since it reminded him of those nights back at home where he’d written song lyrics - or by trying meditation. He didn’t find the latter very easy but Harry swore by it during the two weeks they’d been living together and Calum thought of the older man’s calming presence during times like this, when he was struggling to focus his breathing and calm his thoughts. Sometimes it even helped a little bit.

Being creative in general seemed to help Calum a lot and that was why he was starting to enjoy group therapy so much. He didn’t even mind the group goal setting sessions now because he knew he’d most likely get to do arts and crafts afterwards, and there was something incredibly therapeutic about getting all of his emotions out in vibrant colours on the paper.

The group activities were Calum’s favourite parts of the day because, more than anything else these days, he loved being busy. The meal preparation was helpful, the discussions could be very interesting and sometimes even fun, and he especially liked those rare sessions where Capron - Corey’s older brother - came in with his guitar because then they all got to make _music_ and that felt like it was stitching the dark-haired boy's heart back together again.

Those were the times - when Calum felt himself smiling; felt the dimples creasing his cheeks and his chocolate brown eyes crinkling - that the dark-haired boy forgot how badly he was hurting. He didn’t dwell on his target weight looming ever closer, or the way Michael looked when he passed out in the road, or the bruises staining Joy’s skin, or the hollow expression on Mali’s face when she saw his scars, or how devastated Ashton and Luke had looked that night on the bridge, or even _David_ looming like a dark shadow on the horizon.

Calum was focused on himself instead - but positively instead of the constant negativity he had grown so used to - and it was the strangest, most welcome change he’d ever experienced.

A month in and he didn’t have to have blood tests so frequently anymore, and his diet and medication were adjusted accordingly. Calum found it easier to follow his meal plan, despite the gradual increase of calories, and he didn’t mind the snacks they were given several times a day although that had been _very_ difficult at first. Calum’s favourite was probably the plastic beakers of semi-skimmed milk because it was easier to view that as medicine instead of food which was something his therapist encouraged.

She said that if that was the best way he could deal with it right now then he should embrace it because it was an enormous part of the healing process. Calum didn’t know how he felt about that but he knew the milk was important - it improved his protein and calcium levels without overloading his system - and his dietician assured Calum it would help his bones too which was something that terrified him.

Gloria had snapped her wrist cleanly in two the week before and it had shaken Calum up a lot. She’d toppled out of her chair during the rest period after dinner - the time when the toilets were locked for an hour that Calum hated so much - and he was sure she’d barely put any weight on her wrist at all but the bone had broken so easily and her face had gone green. Calum had cried a bit when he’d seen how much pain she was in and Corey took him back to his room with an unusually grave expression on his tanned face when Gloria was taken away to get fixed up.

“Why’d it break so easily?” Calum asked and he was shuddering now, remembering Michael’s leg breaking and the blood dripping from his cherry-red lips in flashes. Corey wasn’t supposed to be too hands-on with the patients but he sat next to Calum on the bed anyway, his expression downcast in the dimly lit room.

“Have you ever heard of osteoporosis?” the nurse asked quietly and Calum shivered, feeling his stomach twisting sickeningly as the food he’d just eaten threatened to rise up. He fought not to be sick and Corey’s eyes were faintly proud when the younger boy nodded weakly.

“It’s… it’s to do with your bones being weaker, right?” Calum asked and Corey nodded. “I don’t know much else about it though. Just that you get fractures easier I guess. Is… is that what Gloria has?”

“You know I can’t discuss other patients with you, Calum,” Corey said uncomfortably but there was something in his eyes that made the dark-haired boy want to cry. “Osteoporosis is a condition in which the bones become less dense and are more prone to fractures; just like you said, right? And… and anorexia - amongst other eating disorders - well… they contribute to significant losses in bone density; you know, because of hormones and nutritional problems… so, while not everyone with an eating disorder will get osteoporosis, they’ll at the very least be at high risk of it. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“You’re saying that that might happen to me too,” Calum said dully and the numbness was rising up to bury his fear. His therapist would be disappointed that he wasn’t trying to feel his emotions instead of hiding them but, right now, Calum was too upset to care. “I’m going to be at risk of this for my whole life, aren’t I? It doesn’t matter how hard I try to beat this now. The damage is done.”

“Not at all,” Corey disagreed mildly, watching Calum anxiously out of the corner of his eyes although his expression was schooled into one of calm. “If you work on improving your diet and exercising moderately in a healthy way, you could lessen the risk enormously.”

“What else can I do to make it better?” Calum asked and he was kind of clutching at straws now, hating the desperation rippling through him as he turned to sit cross-legged on the bed facing the nurse. He felt _small_ but Corey’s eyes were kind and Calum didn’t feel like he was being judged. “How can I fix this?”

“I can drop you off a leaflet later after visiting time if you like,” Corey said and Calum nodded gratefully. “It’s all the usual things though,” the nurse added and he seemed relieved when Calum looked calmer. “Smoking is bad for your bones; weight-bearing exercise is great for building your strength; alcohol isn’t great as it can lead to poor nutrition and increase your risk of falling.” Corey gave him a faint smile when Calum slumped down onto his back on the mattress, covering his eyes with his wrist for a moment.

“Will you be okay tonight, Calum?” the nurse asked gently as he rose. “Do you need me to see if Zoe or Mary are free for you to talk to them?”

“I’m okay,” Calum murmured and the words were almost true. “I just need to think for a little while.”

“Well, don’t be too long,” Corey said but his tone was kind. “There’s a group session in the living room in twenty minutes, okay? Maybe you can talk about how you’re feeling then.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Calum said and it didn’t feel like a lie anymore. He didn’t mind the sessions now because it was a good opportunity to talk about how he’d found the meals and any issues he needed to address, and it was nice to talk to the other patients too. It was slowly helping Calum overcome his shyness.

The weekly meetings with his dietician were becoming less stressful now too although Calum still sometimes left feeling panicky and ill, but talking it through with Corey afterwards definitely helped and Calum tried to listen to what his Key Worker said; tried to appreciate the fact that his diet would never be changed without his knowledge. The staff at the Windmill Clinic were trusting Calum to be honest and he had to trust them back, even if it _did_ feel ridiculously difficult sometimes.

He’d spoken to his therapist about it and she said the fact that he even noticed that in himself was a big step because it meant he was becoming more self-aware. Zoe said it was perfectly natural that Calum would have issues with trusting people because a huge part of the way he’d coped with his life up until that point had been hiding his problems from everyone and pretending to be okay; she said it would have been surprising if he _had_ just been able to open up and trust people without a second thought. Sometimes it made Calum feel better. Mostly it just made him sad.

He didn’t always realise the extent that he had been screwed up over the years. Obviously he knew the self-harm and his eating disorder were huge issues, as well as his anxiety, but he was starting to agree with Zoe that these were symptoms as opposed to the root of his problems.

That had probably begun to develop during his childhood, growing up in a strained environment where David could explode at the slightest provocation and Joy struggled to keep the children looking perfect in a failed attempt to keep her abusive husband happy. With hindsight, Calum was surprised Mali had escaped as unscathed as she had… unless she was just better at dealing with the things that threatened to tear her apart.

Calum had never been any good at that.

Every day he grew closer to his target weight and it made Calum’s stress worsen over the next few weeks. He found it harder to talk to his relatives when they came to see him during visiting hours - the most difficult evenings were when Luke and Ashton surprised him because seeing them so happy and in love _hurt_ \- and Calum couldn’t control his anxiety anymore.

He knew it was just because he was scared of gaining weight; knew that the very idea of even going home for a day of leave terrified him but it didn’t matter how many times he wrote different variations of that in his journal. It didn’t matter that he jogged around the gardens outside during his free time in an effort to feel like he had control again. Calum felt terrible about it.

He was struggling and Zoe seemed to realise it before he’d even opened his mouth to speak when she gestured for him to sit down in one of the armchairs in her office. Calum’s trembling fingers folded together neatly in his lap and he tried to make himself small; tried to ignore the fact that he felt less cold than he used to because that meant he’d put weight on and that he was fatter than ever now.

_Think of the Polaroid. Remember the Polaroid._

“How are you today, Calum?” Zoe asked him, her soft eyes carefully taking in the tension in his shoulders and the belligerent way he squared his jaw when he forced himself to meet her gaze. “You seem upset.”

“I’m fine,” Calum said before a snort of slightly hysterical laughter punched out of him when she simply raised an eyebrow. “Okay, you got me. I guess I’m just… stressed. It was really hard this week and I don’t know why.” She still seemed content to simply watch him in silence and Calum bristled when she made a note on her clipboard, her eyes flickering back to look at him. The dark-haired boy sighed.

“I’ve gained two pounds this week,” he said and Zoe’s expression tightened fractionally at the pain on his face. “I’ve put so much weight on since I’ve been here and I’m getting so fat, and it’s the worst thing ever… and I _know_ I need to put weight on and I _know_ this is all in my head, and it doesn’t make a single bit of difference! I try to remind myself of the picture Mali took or what happened to Gloria’s wrist last month but none of it makes any difference at all! I still want to purge all the time and I still feel like I need to cut, and it feels like it’s never going to get any better. I hate living like this.”

His voice grew weaker as he spoke and he hated the bitter tears welling up in his eyes as Zoe’s pen flew across the page. She didn’t look surprised when she held his gaze but there was something slightly knowing on her pale face.

“Putting weight on is why you’re here, Calum,” she said gently. “You were very severely underweight when you arrived at the clinic. Your heart was failing and your body was starting to shut down. You know all this, of course, but I think sometimes it helps to be reminded.” Her voice stayed soft but she set the clipboard down on the table beside her and opened her palms in a placating gesture.

“Everything you’re experiencing now is horrible, yes, but it’s also expected. You’re going through so many changes right now - both physically and mentally - and it’s utterly exhausting. It’s no wonder at all that your natural reaction would be to slip back into old habits but I really would encourage you to read back through your journal and realise how far you’ve come since arriving here. You seem like a different person now.”

“What do you mean?” Calum murmured, his eyelashes spiky with tears as he watched her blankly. She gave him a soft smile as she passed him a tissue and Calum shredded the edges between his shaking fingertips as he took a few calming breaths. Zoe looked relieved when he finally dragged his gaze back to her face.

“You were fighting when you arrived here but you weren’t fighting your disorder, Calum. You were fighting _us_... fighting the part of you that wanted to get better. You were committing a very slow suicide and you believed you had no hope of recovery,” she said. “Please correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t see that in you anymore. I see a young man who is trying very, _very_ hard to fight his demons and get better so that he can return to the people he loves.”

Something flickered in Calum’s expression - as sharp as broken glass but vulnerable too - and Zoe’s soft grey eyes became curious.

“You just realised something,” she noticed and Calum might have marvelled at how good she was at her job if he didn’t feel like he’d been scraped raw now. “Do you feel comfortable telling me what it was?”

“I… I guess so,” he mumbled, shrugging jerkily as he dried his eyes hard with his sleeve. “It’s just… what you said then about going back home again. I think that’s another reason that reaching my target weight is scaring me so much… because I don’t love the idea of going back home.”

“That’s natural too,” Zoe interjected softly. “Living in a controlled environment like the Windmill Clinic can be strange and difficult at first, but it’s easy to become acclimatised to it and often the idea of returning to the world outside can be quite frightening -”

“It’s not that,” Calum said and she looked pleased that he’d interrupted her to share his own thoughts. It was something she’d been trying to get him to do this whole time. “Well, not _just_ that at least,” he amended quietly and Zoe gestured for him to carry on. “It’s… it’s because I’m afraid nothing will have changed back home. Everything’s still going to be a huge tangled mess and I’m scared I’m going to get sucked right back into it and… god, I can’t go through this again, Zoe. I _can’t_.”

His therapist made another note on her clipboard and Calum slumped back in the armchair like all of the air had leaked out of him. It hurt being so open and honest but he was trying his hardest, and she seemed to appreciate that.

“Have you considered the possibility of living elsewhere?” Zoe asked mildly. “Perhaps with a relative or a close family friend until you’re able to live alone?” Her expression showed that she possibly didn’t think that living by himself was a brilliant idea but Calum was too tired to care now.

“I have actually,” he said and she looked at him in surprise. “I mentioned it last week to Mali when she came alone and she told me that she was going to get a house with Harry. They’ve paid the deposit and everything, and she said the pair of them would really love it if I’d consider moving in with them after this. She thinks a change of scenery would be good and obviously I wouldn’t be too far from home or my friends.” His voice shook a little on the last word as Michael’s bloodied face flashed before his eyes but Calum struggled not to lose control. Zoe nodded slowly although she didn’t break the silence that had fallen and the dark-haired boy appreciated that a lot.

“I told her I had to think about it,” Calum continued once he’d calmed his breathing again. “I talked to mum when she came to see me a few days later and she pretty much insisted that I go because she thinks I’ll be happier there.”

“What do _you_ think?” Zoe asked and Calum swallowed audibly past the lump rising in his throat.

“I think I’m scared,” he said softly. “I think that I’m not as in love with this idea as everyone else seems to be because… I don’t know. I guess I feel like I don’t _deserve_ a fresh start when mum’s still stuck in that house where she was hurt so badly. I hate the idea of leaving her alone there.”

“But she’s your mum,” Zoe said and Calum looked at her blankly. She gave him a gentle look. “She’s your mum and it’s her job to worry about you, Calum. Not the other way around.” When he started to protest, she spoke up again. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t care about her well-being because that would be silly - you _love_ her and that’s very, very important - but what I _am_ saying is that you need to put yourself first. If living with Mali and Harry is something that would make you feel happier and safer, that would be a very positive change. However, if you _don’t_ feel like you would be comfortable there, that’s equally fair and we can consider other alternatives.”

Calum watched her helplessly but Zoe’s lips were pressed together now and he knew she wouldn’t make the decision for him, no matter how badly he wished she would. He was so tired of having to decide things on his own.

“I think I _do_ want to live with Mali,” Calum admitted in a choked whisper. “I just… want mum to be safe more. I’m scared dad will come back and hurt her.” Calum thought about what he was saying and something that felt a lot like ice trickled down his back. “Except… dad might not come back anyway… and I only made things worse before.”

Zoe opened her mouth - probably to tell him he was being negative - and Calum beat her to it.

“Not like that,” he said dismissively and she seemed content to simply listen to him. “I mean, like, something about me just _really_ used to piss my dad off and he used to take it out on mum. He tried to strangle me the night before… what happened with Mike on the bridge.” Calum shuddered but he was staring fixedly at a scuff on the wall now, too ashamed and upset to hold his therapist’s gaze. “I guess, if I was back home and dad _did_ come there, mum would be more likely to get hurt because she’d be trying to keep me safe again…”

Calum wiped his eyes with his sleeve as he remembered David dragging Joy up the stairs and into their bedroom by the hair, but the tears didn’t stop falling and Calum let them after a little while. There was no point wiping them away when more would follow.

“Maybe living with Mali and Harry would keep her safer,” he said softly. “At least that way she’d have somewhere she could come where she’d be safe… and maybe we could work out how to get her away from dad for good then.” Calum’s eyes were glassy with tears but he looked up at Zoe suddenly, feeling the fire burning inside again as he thought about Joy. “I asked her to leave once - to run away where she’d be safe - but she said she wouldn’t leave me. Maybe now she’ll finally find a way to be okay again.”

“Maybe she will,” Zoe said but she was smiling a tiny smile now that Calum looked calmer, if exhausted. “Maybe this will be a fresh start for all of you, away from a place where you have so many bad memories.”

“I think that’s the right thing to do,” Calum said slowly and Zoe still wouldn’t confirm or deny it but Calum hadn’t expected her to. “I’m just… scared,” he added, remembering his knees settling on the tiled bathroom floor and the burning of his throat as the shower pounded down. Calum shook his head weakly, his expression downcast as he stared down at the mint-green carpet blankly. “I’m scared of losing this safety net, even if it _is_ killing me. Logic doesn’t seem to enter into it.”

“Who can be logical when they’re afraid?” Zoe countered and Calum didn’t have an answer for that. “You’re very hard on yourself,” she noted and the dark-haired boy shrugged uneasily. “You’re very self-critical and negative, and I would really like you to try and stop yourself from doing that. Every time you think something negative about yourself, you are internalising that and remembering it… and I think you treat yourself like that all the time, always telling yourself that you need to be better… that you’re not _good_ enough. Am I close?”

Calum’s fingertips drifted over the **PERFECT** cut into his thigh and he nodded silently, his mouth falling open a little in surprise.

“Spot on,” he breathed and Zoe nodded like she’d expected as much.

“I’d really like it if you’d try to be a little kinder to yourself,” she said gently. “I know it will be difficult but if you notice yourself being self-critical or unkind, I’d like you to try and think of something positive instead. You deserve kindness, Calum. You don’t deserve to be treated badly.”

“Thank you,” Calum said and Zoe shook her head with a fond expression on her face.

“You don’t need to thank me, Calum,” his therapist said gently. “I’m just telling the truth.”

Mali and Joy both came to see him that night, and Calum told them both what he’d decided in his session with Zoe. He left out the details about what David had done to Joy since he was still fairly certain his mum hadn’t told Mali yet but he could see the relief on his mother’s face as plain as day. All she’d ever wanted was for her children to be safe and now maybe they finally would be.

“You’ll love the house,” Mali said happily as she wrapped an arm around her brother’s shoulders, apparently taking great delight in the fact that she couldn’t feel his bones so easily anymore. “It’s quite small but you’d have your own room and there’s another room in the loft too, where it’s been converted, so we could probably have another bed up there too if we needed to.” Mali’s eyes flickered towards Joy for a moment and Calum hardly dared to hope.

“Then Calum can have Michael to stay when they’re both better,” Joy said with a strained attempt at cheeriness. Mali’s face fell and Calum didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“As if they wouldn’t be sharing a room,” the older girl muttered and Calum might have rolled his eyes at their antics but it was difficult when there were tears welling up in them.

“Pretty shitty subject change,” Calum said in a wet voice but, before Joy could tell him not to swear - and she’d even opened her mouth to do it - Gloria happened to pass by outside and Calum beckoned her in with something like desperation. The red-haired girl trotted into the room easily enough, one wrist plastered in a bright purple cast, her red hair plaited so messily that the fiery strands were escaping.

“You alright, Cal?” she asked hesitantly and the dark-haired boy shrugged as he patted the bed beside him. They’d spent quite a few evenings talking together during their free time and Calum would miss her when they both left, although they’d already added each other on Facebook so at least they would be able to stay in contact.

“Uh huh,” Calum mumbled, not sure of the answer. “This is Mali and my mum Joy, who I was telling you about. Guys, this is Gloria.”

“Oh, I like Gloria!” Mali said excitedly and the smile on her face proved it. She’d had a soft spot for the younger girl ever since she’d heard the advice she’d given to Calum. “You don’t have anyone to visit you, sweetie?”

“Not tonight,” Gloria said with a shrug. “My dad’s watching my little brother’s swimming competition today and that was all the way in Melbourn so it’s a long drive… and, you know, my mum’s in an urn on our mantelpiece back home so…”

“Oh god,” Mali breathed as Calum’s hand found the red-haired girl’s hesitantly. Joy looked like she wanted to cry. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I wish I hadn’t said anything.”

“It’s okay,” Gloria said with a careful shrug, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. “Are you good at doing hair, Mali? You look like you would be and I really want french plaits but I can’t do them myself with this stupid cast on. This was the best I could manage this morning.” She gestured at her messy red hair and Mali brightened as she got up to sit behind Gloria.

“I can definitely manage that for you,” she said and the fifteen year old looked content as Joy wordlessly passed her daughter a hairbrush out of her bag. Calum smiled when Gloria gave his hand a grateful squeeze.

“I like people doing my hair,” she said and there was something softer in her voice that Calum had never heard before. It reminded him of Michael for a moment. “Mum always used to feel like she was scalping me when I was a kid but the plaits always looked beautiful.”

“My mum was the same,” Mali said conspiratorily, winking at Joy when the older woman pretended to be offended. “Used to feel like she was going to pull the hair right out of my head.”

“I wanted you to look tidy for your dance competitions,” Joy said meekly but Calum could see the humour glittering in her eyes anyway and he was so glad he’d invited Gloria in.

“I love my mum a lot though,” the red-haired girl added out of nowhere. “Brutal hair-pulling aside.” Mali smiled as she gave the younger girl’s arm a gentle pat, making sure the touch was fleeting enough that it didn’t make Gloria uncomfortable.

“I know exactly the feeling,” Mali said as she caught Joy’s gaze over the younger girl’s shoulder. “I love my mum too. No matter what.”

When Joy’s eyes welled up with tears then, everyone was kind enough to pretend not to notice. Calum felt calmer than he had done in a long time.

The last two months of his stay at the Windmill Clinic went by much more quickly than the first couple had. Calum was closer to his target weight every day and he was trying to remember what Zoe had said; trying to remind himself that this was the price he had to pay to stay alive. It wasn’t easy but sometimes he almost believed the things he told himself.

His exercise compulsion became easier to manage over time too and, although it never really went away, Calum found it easier to remain logical now. He still craved the long walks that had kept him calm during the earlier days of his disorder but he didn’t feel the need to do sit-ups or press-ups for hours at a time in the night anymore. His need to count calories was a little easier to ignore too and Calum thought that was due to him being able to prepare his own food because having that control helped.

As his weight and his anxiety surrounding it became more stable, Calum was finally able to leave the treatment centre for the day. He spent time with Joy, and with Mali and Harry, and he bumped into Ashton and Luke while he was visiting Michael which was a nice surprise too.

Calum tried his best to be positive around them but keeping the smile on his face ached and his forced optimism hurt when he insisted that Michael would wake up soon. Luke and Ashton looked at him with something like pity but the hope still burnt in their eyes too, and Calum felt less crazy when they were praying for the same things.

The days of leave made it feel even harder for Calum to re-adjust when he went back to the clinic - no matter _how_ supportive Corey and Gloria were - and it was even worse when, three months into his stay at the treatment centre, he was finally trusted to stay overnight at home again.

Calum had found it incredibly difficult to sit down and eat a meal with his mum, and he’d exercised far more than he was usually allowed to up in his room that night. It made him feel awful and, although he didn’t purge or cut, the urge was there even stronger than usual and it shook Calum up.

He was quiet and withdrawn when his mum drove him back to the Windmill Clinic the next day, and Calum thought she almost looked _relieved_ when she dropped him off with his sports bag of clothes dangling over one narrow shoulder in the early morning mist. He couldn't say he blamed her.

Zoe said it wasn’t a failure; that this was a useful test to see how well Calum could manage when left to his own devices. She said that all it showed was that he would need more support - more structure and routine - and that that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; it just gave them something to build on.

Calum went on home leave again the next week and he found it easier to stay overnight, if only became he was sticking to the timetable he’d drawn up with Corey a few days previously. It detailed when he needed to eat meals and what he should include, how much exercise was healthy, and when it might be a good idea to just give himself some space away from the bustle of normal life.

Calum found it helpful and it was with an unusual sense of calm that he went to visit Michael alone at the hospital that evening. Mali and Joy were going for a drink together, something which made Calum inexplicably happy, and Harry had offered to drive Calum there, insisting that he would be perfectly happy getting a coffee and waiting for him in the canteen.

Calum gave Harry a hug when the older man walked him up to Michael’s floor - taking the stairs by unspoken agreement - and Harry couldn’t keep the relieved smile off his face when he patted Calum’s shoulder gently. Apparently he'd been worried that the younger boy wasn't comfortable around him.

“I’ll just be downstairs, okay? Come find me when you’re ready to leave, Cal,” he said and Calum nodded gratefully, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched the older man walk towards the lifts. The dark-haired boy’s heart beat a little faster when he turned to head towards Michael’s room.

Calum hesitated in the doorway as he gazed at the familiar scene, taking in the drip and the coiling tubes, and the oxygen mask still fixed to Michael’s face. Seeing that the older boy had remained completely unchanged while Calum’s life had been altered so enormously hurt more than he’d expected and Calum’s legs felt shaky beneath him when he dropped down into the seat beside Michael’s bed.

The dressing that had previously been on Michael’s head was gone now and the scar below it was already beginning to fade. Calum ran his fingers lightly through the unconscious boy’s hair, his heart panging when he saw how the blue was fading away to reveal the golden-brown beneath. It felt like forever ago that Michael had been awake now but also no time at all. The machines were still beeping just the same.

“Hey, Mikey,” Calum murmured, his voice already thick with tears as his hand fell to take Michael’s instead. “I’ve missed you so, _so_ much. I’m really sorry it’s been so long.” He brushed his lips lightly over the older boy’s knuckles and missed the way the heart monitor picked up just a tiny bit at the sound of his voice. “I’ve got so much to tell you though.”

Calum felt like he was talking for ages as he told Michael about Zoe and Corey, and Gloria and Mary, and the other patients and the stern-faced dietician, and Capron with his guitar and the way music still felt like sunlight filling Calum’s chest. He told Michael about Mali and Harry, and quietly confessed about what David had done to him and his mum that night when everything had become too much.

Calum talked about the Windmill Clinic and his new routine, and how he had a care plan now that made dealing with his eating disorder so much easier. He told Michael what he’d already worked out with Zoe: that what he was suffering from wasn't a particular eating disorder… not bulimia or anorexia… something that didn’t quite fit into a category anymore. It reminded Calum a little of that night with Aleisha beneath the willow tree when they’d talked about labels but it didn’t hurt as much as he’d expected.

Maybe Calum would never have a label that fit him properly… and maybe that was okay too.

Maybe he could finally see that.

“I’m glad I got to see you again,” Calum said softly as the shadows stretched across the walls like ink and he started to grow tired. “Home leave is really hard but it’s worth it if it means I get to visit you.” The dark-haired boy rubbed his thumb comfortingly over Michael’s knuckles and hoped in vain that the older boy might squeeze his hand back.

“Last time I stayed overnight at home... it was really hard,” Calum admitted after a moment. “Zoe said it was expected though. She said that everyone is going to struggle at some point no matter what and that I shouldn’t beat myself up if the first time was hard because at least I kept trying.” Calum fell silent, his eyes swimming with tears although he struggled to keep them locked inside. “I’m never going to stop trying, Mikey,” he breathed as he dropped another kiss onto the older boy’s knuckles. “I promise.”

The room stayed silent and the monitors stayed steady but, for the first time, Calum became almost certain that Michael could hear him. He felt it in the energy in the room; felt it when his breathing picked up just a little as Michael’s eyes fluttered faintly beneath their lids.

The logical part of Calum’s brain insisted that this was just a reflex to the light in the room; that this was him seeing what he _wanted_ to see and not reality. Calum ignored it as the hope simmering in his chest burst into flames.

“Mikey, I… I’ve learnt something else as well,” the dark-haired boy choked out, his hand entwined with Michael’s more securely now as his heart raced in his chest. “Zoe told me that… that she believes our souls are what make us… and our bodies are just the vehicles for that and we have to treat them kindly. She says we all deserve kindness, even if it’s hard to accept that sometimes, and I think I’m finally starting to believe her.”

Calum inhaled shakily but he felt stronger when he straightened up in the chair and he _knew_ it wasn’t his imagination when Michael’s eyes fluttered again.

“I’m so much more than my disorder,” Calum said quietly, his voice soft but surprisingly hard. “And you’re more than the things that have hurt you, Mikey, okay? I’m gonna keep telling you that ‘til you believe me too.”

Another thought occurred to Calum and, if Michael _could_ hear him right now, this one felt especially important to say. He took a deep breath, calming himself with only mild difficulty as he took in the peaceful expression on the older boy’s pale face.

“I don’t want to kill myself anymore,” Calum admitted and those words were harder to stay but they were still true. “I don’t even want to be _dead_. That wouldn’t end the pain I feel; it would just pass it on to somebody else… the way I passed it on to you.”

The stars were beginning to burst to life outside and Harry would need to drive him home soon. Calum rose to press a gentle kiss to the older boy’s forehead and he lingered there for a moment, just breathing in the familiar comforting smell beneath the scent of the hospital saturating the room.

Michael still smelt like home.

“I’m tired of passing the pain on, Mikey,” Calum said and he was crying a little bit but Michael’s hand was warm in his. “I want us to heal instead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I can’t wait to hear what you all think <3  
> Also there’s a small chance that I based Corey (and Capron) on YouTubers I’ve recently completely fallen in love with. HUGE brownie points if you know/would like to know their channel. I love them a ridiculous amount.
> 
> Honestly though, thank you guys so much for sticking around this long. The end really is in sight now and I can't thank you all enough. <33333


	110. Lifeline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Those were the times when he craved cigarettes again; when he missed the bite of metal and the coolness of the bathroom tiles against his knees when his fingernails clawed the back of his throat -_  
>  _But Michael had asked him to save himself and that was what Calum was going to do._  
>  _He’d promised._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I'm really sorry about the delay.  
> I let myself fall into this slump where I just let everything get on top of me and I lost all motivation to write and it was a horrible week but things are looking up now, and I'm really hoping you guys will like this update.  
> Time is moving fast in this fic now!  
> Fingers crossed you'll enjoy <3
> 
> P.S. If I've missed any mistakes, I'll fix those tomorrow I promise.

**_Don’t ever give up because you’re losing._ ******

**_Hold on._ **

_\- You Kill Me (In A Good Way), Sleeping With Sirens_

 

It rained a lot in the days following Calum’s discharge from the Windmill Clinic.

He felt scared and vulnerable, and the reality of being back home while Mali and Harry began to move their belongings into the new house made it very difficult to adjust. He was sticking to his care plan as best he could though - trying to remember the encouraging words Corey and Zoe had said - and Calum found it easier to cope than he might have done once upon a time.

He supposed it was good that he was home now because it meant that he no longer required the round-the-clock care and monitoring. That should have made him feel _strong_ and empowered probably but Calum just felt like he’d dodged a bullet instead… like this whole experience had made him realise how fragile and fleeting life was.

It made him more determined to continue his treatment at home and keep the promises he’d made.

As an outpatient, Calum would still need to go back to visit Zoe every week but that would gradually be reduced to monthly sessions as he learnt to adjust again. The amount he needed to put on to become a healthy weight had lessened too; Calum only needed to gain one pound a week now.

Gloria had left the clinic the week before him and she was struggling to settle in too although she was doing an admirable job of it. Calum talked to her on Facebook sporadically throughout the day but they both seemed to find it helpful to give the other a little boost and he was relieved to hear that her wrist was slowly healing too.

Calum liked being friends with her on Facebook because, although it was sad to see how ill she looked in some of her later pictures, it was nice to see the ones where she was with her friends and family, and even from her profile picture it was obvious how much her dad adored her. Calum was glad she had such loving and supportive people around her, and he knew she’d be okay in the end… and he was starting to think he probably would be too, if he could get Michael back again.

Maybe even _without_ the older boy although that was definitely not a future Calum was happy to consider.

He knew he had plenty of people who loved him too though. It just seemed cruel and bitterly unfair that poor Michael had been the one who made him realise that.

Things were slowly beginning to plateau and Calum reflected on that as the weeks trickled past. He no longer ached like he had done before and, although he was still badly hurting with everything that had happened, breathing felt easier these days.

He still didn’t like being left alone after so many months of always having someone close by in the clinic but he was slowly getting used to it again. He’d panicked badly the first time he’d been left alone though, running straight upstairs and flushing his blade down the toilet.

The magnitude of what he’d done afterwards had shaken him badly but Calum couldn’t regret it. He didn’t trust himself to have it in his room and he was so tired of hurting all the time. His scars were beginning to fade now and Joy had stopped crying every time she caught sight of his arms now; Calum couldn’t hurt her like that again.

If he was really honest with himself, cutting had never really helped anyway. Sure, he’d _thought_ it did but that had only been for those few fleeting seconds while he’d actually been doing it, losing himself in the sting and the bite of the metal… but then the blood had welled up and his heart had ached dully in his chest, and everything had felt so much worse.

Calum felt better now that he’d made the decision to stop… _cleaner_ almost… like maybe he was closer to being someone who deserved the pride of the people he cared about.

He was trying to stop smoking too and, although that felt more difficult sometimes, all he had to do was remind himself of Gloria’s wrist breaking and the pain flooding her eyes, and it was enough to stop Calum in his tracks. It woke him in the night sometimes - his craving for nicotine and the darker things he couldn’t let himself dwell on - but it reached a breaking point when Calum sat bolt upright at three in the morning and remembered Corey’s solemn eyes as he explained the dangers of osteoporosis to him.

Calum snatched his crumpled packet of cigarettes out of his bedside drawer and rummaged around in his discarded school backpack for the blunt scissors he kept in his pencil case. The sky was inky black outside as he cut his remaining cigarettes into tiny pieces with a strange mixture of longing and savage triumph, and he scattered them out of the window afterwards, relishing the bite of the cold air and the faint scent of the tobacco as the fragments were carried away on the breeze.

He went back to bed feeling strangely proud of himself and that feeling lingered inside no matter how drained he felt as he fought against his demons. Calum wasn’t going to let them destroy him again though; he knew now that he deserved so much more than that.

He felt stronger than he had in a long time when he met Ashley on the beach a few days later.

As the older girl walked towards him with her windswept hair - back to its natural brown now - and her baggy lavender-coloured jumper, Calum was struck by just how much she had changed since the pair of them had become friends. He could still see the pain Noah had left behind carved into the lines of Ashley’s face but Calum could see the quiet strength now too and he felt prouder of her than anyone.

“Cal,” the older girl said when she was close enough, a gentle smile playing across her lips as she closed the distance between them. Her arms were warm when they wrapped around the younger boy’s shoulders and Calum’s eyes welled with tears as he buried his face in her neck.

Seeing her again brought a flood of memories rushing back and all he could see for a moment was that night in her garden, with the burning paper crumbling away into ash as the sparks drifted into the inky sky. Ashley hugged him tighter, almost like she was thinking the same thing.

“I missed you,” Calum breathed and he hated that he’d been avoiding the two girls without meaning to; hated that he was so worried they’d grow tired of him while he was in the clinic that he hadn’t even _tried_ to stay in contact. “I missed you and Aleisha so, _so_ much.”

“We missed you too,” Ashley said gently as she finally drew back, giving Calum a watery smile. “A _huge_ amount. Leish was so sad she couldn’t come but her folks took her to visit her brother today. Apparently he might be let out of prison soon… for good behaviour I think… and I guess they figured that her seeing him might encourage him to keep trying.” Ashley shrugged as the pair of them fell into step together. “Leish missed Jason even more than usual with you gone. I think maybe… that’s how she views you now. Like a brother, y’know?”

It made something melt in Calum’s chest as a wide smile touched his lips. He felt almost _relieved_ and it took him a moment to realise that it was because he no longer felt guilty that the pair of them couldn’t make it work together. He was glad she’d found a way to move on from that.

Being reminded of what had happened to Jason reminded him of his first few weeks at the clinic though, back when it had still felt like a prison cell, and Calum shivered despite himself.

“I’m so glad I’m back,” he said quietly, biting his full bottom lip when Ashley made a small sound of concern when she reached to tangle their fingers. There was something calmer in her eyes now as she hunched her shoulders against the cold, her hair tousled messily in the breeze.

“Those four months without you felt so long,” she admitted, and Calum might still have been afraid and hurting but he no longer ached like before. His breathing came easier and everything felt less overwhelming, and he thought seeing his friends again helped a lot more than he’d realised.

Being on the beach with no one but Ashley now felt calm and quiet, and Calum liked it a lot. He didn’t feel like he was drowning anymore; more like he’d battled his way through stormy water and, against the odds, he’d reached the other side.

Everything was slowly starting to fall into place now. He was moving in with his sister and Harry, his mum would hopefully be safe, Ashton and Luke were happy together, and Calum had kept his promises and fought hard to get better.

The only thing missing now was Michael.

The wind picked up and the waves crashed against the beach beneath the turbulent grey sky. Calum huddled up in his denim jacket as he buried his hands inside the sleeves of Graham’s hoodie. He was dressed in his old skinny jeans today and the fact that they almost fit him again now would have been cause for anxiety if he’d let himself dwell on it. Ashley rested her head on his shoulder as they walked and Calum let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

“Sometimes it felt like I was never going to be well enough to leave,” the younger boy said out of nowhere. The confession took him by surprise but Ashley’s face softened as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“But you did,” she said softly, luckily not questioning the seemingly-random subject change. “You made it.” Her pale face was tired but relieved as she shot him a cautious look. “So… how are you finding it now that you’re out of the clinic? Is being back home okay?”

“Um… I started watching Stranger Things on Harry’s Netflix last night?” Calum tried and Ashley rolled her eyes at him, trying hard not to look fond.

“I think you might be deflecting,” she pointed out and the dark-haired boy sighed although he appreciated her concern all the same. It felt good to be around someone who knew him so well but also trusted him to talk when he was ready; it meant more than he could say.

“It’s been… kinda hard I guess,” Calum said before pulling a face. “Although that’s sort of expected, isn’t it? No one said the transition would be easy.”

“Doesn’t change how it makes you feel though,” Ashley said with a shrug, reminding the dark-haired boy inexplicably of Zoe for a moment. “I don’t care if it’s a long story though. Just talk to me if you think it’ll help. I’ve got time.”

Calum was quiet as he ordered his thoughts, keeping his dark gaze fixed on the pebbles clacking beneath their feet as they walked. It reminded him of that night so many months ago when his mum had sang him to sleep and he’d remembered Joy taking her children to play on the beach. Being here almost made Calum feel like **himself** again and, despite not being entirely certain why that was, the truth of it rang through him all the same. He felt like he could breathe easier here.

“Well… it’s been a fortnight since I left and I guess it just feels strange,” Calum said quietly. “I’m used to being observed or, like, having pretty much everything I do analysed by some well-meaning member of staff… so it’s kind of weird to just be alone again now, see?” The dark-haired boy shrugged awkwardly but Ashley’s eyes were so soft that he calmed further. “I mean… obviously my family care a lot but I’m left to my own devices again now and it’s _hard_. It’s really, really hard.”

“I bet,” Ashley said but her expression was faintly unhappy now as she gave his wrist a comforting pat and the fact that this no longer hurt him left him feeling dazed. “So how are you dealing with it then?”

“I’m trying to stick to my care plan,” Calum said with a slightly embarrassed shrug. “I follow pretty much the same timetable I did in the clinic, just with more time to see my family or… or to visit Michael.” Calum closed his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed with guilt and pain and loss. Graham’s words ran through his head and he grasped them like a lifeline: ‘ _I don’t blame you. This isn’t your fault, Calum. You didn’t make Michael do this. He chose to. This isn’t your fault._ ’

Forcing himself to take a calming breath, Calum opened his eyes.

“I just really need him to wake up,” the younger boy said and he disliked how tiny his voice sounded but he was trying not to hate himself for appearing weak. Sometimes he couldn’t help it when he thought about the older boy; thinking about the way Michael looked lying unconscious in the hospital bed left Calum feeling scraped out and raw.

God, he missed Michael so much it _hurt_ ; missed his gleaming emerald eyes and the rosy undertone of his skin; missed his little hands and the soft swell of his tummy when Calum hugged him. He missed Michael’s multi-coloured hair and his nose-scrunching laugh, and the way he clapped his hands together excitedly sometimes when he didn’t have the words to express how happy he was. Calum hadn’t seen the older boy like that for so many years but he swore that when Michael woke up - not if, **when** \- he was going to make Michael laugh like that every day of his life.

“Cal?” Ashley murmured but Calum’s thoughts were far away, caught up on Michael with his smile and his closed eyes, and the perpetual ache throbbing dully in Calum’s chest. He didn’t care that he could probably live like this, the way he was now; he didn’t _want_ to and it wasn’t even suicidal anymore. He knew he could survive perfectly well but that didn’t mean he’d be content.

Calum thought he needed Michael to be happy again. It was all he wanted.

The pain of not having the older boy beside him was always present for Calum but there were days when it was worse than others.

Sometimes he could distract himself from how badly he missed the older boy: by writing his journal or helping Mali and Harry move their new furniture into the house, or by spending time with Ashton and Luke again during the times when he wasn’t with his mum.

At other times, the pain was crippling. Calum would often find himself unable to even drag himself from his bed and the sobs that tore through him then felt like they were going to tear him apart. His mum would appear in the doorway of his room with antidepressants and a plate of lovingly prepared food, and it would only make Calum feel worse.

Those were the times when he craved cigarettes again; when he missed the bite of metal and the coolness of the bathroom tiles against his knees when his fingernails clawed the back of his throat -

But Michael had asked him to save himself and that was what Calum was going to do.

He’d promised.

“Sorry,” Calum mumbled when he saw Ashley watching him with obvious concern, her tension tangible in the air between them. “I just… got a bit lost.” The words didn’t really make sense but it was the best way he could describe it and Ashley seemed appeased.

“I could tell,” she said and the wind almost stole her voice away. “I said your name like five times and you didn’t even react.”

“Oops,” Calum said and he was smiling a little bit now but his heart was still beating too fast in his chest. He was trying not to think about how Michael had been unconscious for five months now; trying not to lose hope that the older boy would ever wake up.

“You know, I’m moving in with my sister and her boyfriend in a week or so,” Calum said suddenly, keen to distract himself. “They’ve bought this really cute little house and it’s right by the cliffs so we’ll be able to see the ocean all the time. It’s pretty. I think Leish would like it especially.”

“A fresh start then,” Ashley said and she was smiling although her fingertips were rubbing comforting shapes into Calum’s arm, like maybe she could tell how stressed he was even though he was trying to hide it. When she pressed a chaste kiss to his shoulder, that only confirmed it.

“I have something to tell you,” the older girl said and Calum looked over at her curiously. “You know that night in the garden where you helped me burn the pages?” She was shaking a tiny bit and Calum took her hand again, hoping it would be enough to comfort her.

“You did that yourself but… yes,” he said softly. “I’m not going to forget something like that.”

Ashley ducked her head, her cheeks heating a tiny bit although she seemed happier when she finally looked up at him.

“That helped me more than you know,” she said softly. “I… I finally felt strong enough to tell mum what happened with Noah. She felt so terrible that she’d never realised but she’s talked to dad about it since and they’re both being so supportive now… trying to help me heal and stuff.” Ashley shook her head slowly but she was still smiling and she looked faintly stunned. “It’s all thanks to you, Cal. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Calum’s dimples creased his cheeks as he pulled her into a tight hug that Ashley melted into.

“I’m so happy for you, Ash,” Calum murmured and the older girl grinned as she ruffled his dark curls with her fingers, apparently relishing in how thickly they were growing back.

“I’m so proud of you,” she countered. “It’s nice to have you back, gorgeous.”

“Not as gorgeous as you,” Calum grinned and Ashley stuck her tongue out at him, looking ridiculously pleased with herself. The sky was still grey overhead but Calum felt like there was sunshine on his skin when one of his very best friends was grinning at him like this.

“You’ve _really_ only just started watching Stranger Things though?” the older girl asked out of nowhere, a smile in her voice. “You’re like a decade behind everyone else, gorgeous. I’m already on Riverdale.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Calum said in a wounded voice. “I’ve been busy trying not to die.”

Ashley’s face softened and she gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

“I guess we can forgive you for that then,” she said before she pulled a face. “You better watch the second series of Stranger Things with me and Leish though, okay?”

“Deal,” Calum smiled and he held her hand tighter.

It felt like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3  
> Please let me know what you thought.
> 
> Not long left to go now!


	111. The End Of The Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _That was all Graham wanted: for Michael to wake up and make some sarcastic comment with his soft smile as his mischievous eyes glittered with love._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm sorry I left it so long and also that this update is so short/probably not the best ever.  
> I've been really busy at the moment - I have a new job, I've kind of met someone, I'm learning to love myself (y'all should try, it's fun), I'm fixing my mental health - but I haven't had much time to write.  
> Again, I'm sorry if this isn't great and I'll fix any mistakes I might have missed at a later date.  
> Fingers crossed you guys like this.

**_Always trying to keep warm, when you're the sun._ **

**_I sat with you beside your bed and cried,_ **

**_For things that I wish I'd said._ **

_\- Nana, The 1975_

 

Michael’s eyes were fluttering beneath their lids.

His hand was small and soft beneath Graham’s, and the nurse almost felt guilty as he held it gently. He knew Michael would probably not have been comfortable with this if he was awake but… but he _wasn’t_ and Graham badly needed the comfort.

The hospital room was light and airy, and utterly unchanging. It had remained the one steady point over the last six months and Graham hated it so much; hated the stale air and the scratchy blankets, and the changeless expression on Michael’s pale face.

Graham was afraid he was slipping away.

He dreamt about it sometimes; woke up gasping with tears streaming down his face after the nightmares of a faceless doctor gravely informing him that Michael was never going to wake up… that he was **gone**.

Graham would give anything to avoid that but he didn’t know how likely it was anymore and the strain was starting to get to him. His hair was liberally streaked with grey now and the worried frown on his forehead never seemed to fade. He felt like he’d aged ten years since the night of the accident.

He could see the change in his brother too; in the perpetual slump of his shoulders and his red-rimmed eyes.

Daryl had been staying with Graham for a few months now, occasionally going home for the weekend but mostly just spending time either with his brother or at the hospital with Michael. It had annoyed Graham at first, letting Daryl sit there with him after all of the pain he’d witnessed his wife inflict on their only son, but the anger in his veins had faded as the weeks trickled past.

Graham didn’t mind spending time with Daryl now. His older brother was trying hard to make amends and Graham enjoyed the company although it didn’t even come _close_ to filling the void Michael had left behind.

Maybe nothing would though.

It certainly felt like it sometimes.

Graham felt old and sad as he sat at the kitchen table, peering down helplessly into the dregs of his cold tea. The sunlight was watery as it filtered in through the blinds and Graham’s sigh seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him. It was his day off and he was going to visit Michael later on.

Graham’s heart felt like it was cracking slowly apart in his chest.

There was a soft rapping on the doorframe and Graham raised his head blearily, taking in his brother standing there with a sports bag slung over his shoulder and his tired eyes fixed on the nurse.

“You’ve been here all night?” Daryl asked with obvious concern. Graham simply looked at him with a lump rising in his throat.

“You’re going back to _her_?” he countered as he took in the way his brother was holding his bag of belongings. Graham couldn’t say it surprised him though. Karen had been making pointed comments to her husband for well over a month now and Graham knew Daryl well enough to realise that he would still go crawling back to her in the end. Quite frankly, Graham was surprised it had taken this long for Daryl to weaken. Maybe he was stronger than the nurse had given him credit for.

Daryl just had no self-esteem and that was why he kept going back to her; because he was labouring under the misguided belief that she was the only one who truly cared about him.

Graham wished Daryl would realise that he cared too. He hoped his brother would be strong enough to leave her in the end.

Living with Karen Clifford was toxic.

Graham was trying not to dwell on that too much though because, at the end of the day, there was little he could do about it. Daryl was a grown man and he could - and probably would - make his own mistakes. Graham wasn’t obligated to try to fix him and that was something the nurse had taken to heart; he had more important things to worry about.

Namely, Michael.

Graham’s heart ached with the painful idea of losing Michael but he fought not to focus on it as he desperately clung to the idea of his nephew waking up and being the same as before, and the chance was growing slimmer with every moment Michael was asleep now but Graham was praying for it harder than he’d ever prayed for anything in his life.

He’d _never_ wanted to hold Michael more than he did now.

He loved his nephew so, _so_ much and Graham was determined to make sure that Michael was the happiest he’d ever been if he made it out of this whole.

That was all Graham wanted: for Michael to wake up and make some sarcastic comment with his soft smile as his mischievous eyes glittered with love.

Graham would give anything for that.

Anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I'd love to hear what you thought <3
> 
> How are you guys?? I wanna know what you've all been up to!!! <3333


	112. Love Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _In that moment Calum realised that, no matter what else happened, the two of them were going to be alright._  
>  _Calum was sure of it now._  
>  _He might not be happy. He might not feel whole ever again without Michael there beside him…_  
>  _But Calum would survive._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I'm sorry it's been so long but I hope you'll enjoy this.  
> Thank you for sticking around <3

**_She lays down on her bedroom floor._ **

**_The chemicals that make her laugh,_ **

**_Don't seem to be working anymore._ **

**_She tries her best, but it hurts her chest._ **

_\- She Lays Down, The 1975_

 

Calum was lying in his new bedroom in the dark when the doorbell rang. He’d just struggled through a particularly difficult dinner with Mali and Harry, and the older pair were leaving him be now which he appreciated. Just lying on his bed in the dark and trying to remember how to breathe again was easier without an audience.

He heard Mali’s confused voice thanks to his door being ajar and the chink of golden light pouring in from outside was momentarily hidden as his sister padded lightly down the hallway to investigate who was at the door. Calum bit his bottom lip idly as he waited and his forehead creased when he heard his sister’s exclamation of surprise.

“Mum?” Mali sounded stunned. “What are you doing here? Are… shit, are you _bleeding_?! Who hurt you?”

Calum squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the sudden rush of tears he felt as his throat thickened, hating the telling silence that was Joy’s only answer… hating the fact that he was still carrying the secret of the terrible things her husband had done to her.

“Where’s Calum?” Joy asked weakly and the dark-haired boy wanted to cry harder as he pushed himself shakily into a sitting position, able to ignore the food in his stomach and the self-disgust saturating him because his mum _needed_ him, damnit, and Calum would do anything for her.

“I’m right here,” he croaked as he appeared in the doorway, taking in the blood smeared across her nose and the love burning in her dark eyes. Her lashes were spiky with tears when she drew him gently into her arms but Mali just looked lost as she watched them, her own arms wrapped tightly around herself as she watched the pair of them uncertainly.

“You didn’t answer my questions, mum,” she said eventually and Joy exhaled shakily as she held her younger daughter’s gaze.

“Can we sit down to have this conversation?” Joy asked heavily and, although she looked uncertain and more than a little afraid, Mali still led the way into the living room.

The boxes were mostly unpacked now and Joy smiled faintly when she saw the knick knacks littering the shelves and the orchid growing in a ceramic pot on the coffee table. A patterned shawl was spread across the back of the sofa and the curtains in front of the glass doors were thrown open to show the sun just beginning to set.

Harry was sitting curled up on the armchair with a book held carefully in his large hands but he smiled when he saw Joy standing there, even as a concerned frown creased his forehead when he glimpsed the blood and Calum’s tear-stained cheeks.

“Good evening,” Harry said politely and Joy gave him a watery smile as Calum tugged her down lightly onto the sofa, keeping her hand clasped safely between his own as Mali perched on the arm of the chair Harry was still sitting in. Her dark hair cascaded down around her and her eyes looked worried in her tired face.

“David came back home today,” Joy said after a long pause, fighting to keep her voice steady. It was only because he was still holding her hand that Calum realised quite how badly she was shaking and he pressed his lips to her shoulder hard, silently trying to give her enough strength to carry on. “He collected the last of his things… told me he’s selling the house.” A tear rolled down Joy’s bruised cheek but she didn’t seem to notice it, even as she held Calum’s hands tighter and raised them to press a shaky kiss to his knuckles. “I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing him for any longer though so… I just ran.”

An uncomfortable silence grew then as Mali clearly tried to work out what had gone so badly wrong and Harry chose that opportunity to excuse himself, shooting them all an apologetic look as he disappeared into the tiny kitchen and shut the door behind him, clearly trying to give them privacy which Calum appreciated a lot.

No one wanted this to be any harder than it had to be.

“What did dad _do_ to you?” Mali whispered and there were tears streaking her own cheeks now but she looked like she was afraid of the answer. “Didn’t… didn’t he just hit you once? I… I hated him for that but… but I thought it was only once…” Her voice was wobbling now and Mali was shaking faintly as she gazed at her mother helplessly.

Joy’s hair was cropped messy and short as she ran her free hand through it, and Calum wondered if she’d cut it herself as he looked at the uneven ends. Her nails were bitten down painfully but her dark eyes gleamed brighter than they had in a long time as Joy held Calum’s hand more tightly. He wanted to cry looking at her.

He hated her quiet explanation; hated how clipped and measured her carefully-chosen words sounded as she softly described David tearing her life apart. Calum couldn’t stand listening when Joy explained what had happened the night before the horrible events on the bridge; hated the way Mali’s eyes filled with tears as she gazed between her mother and brother hopelessly, her sobs building in her chest.

Calum had maybe never hated anything more than when Joy shakily said that she wasn’t going to call the police because… _fuck_ , Calum hated that she was ashamed like Ashley was; hated that _another_ horrible man was walking free after the agony he had rained down on innocent people.

Mali was sobbing brokenly by the time Joy was finished talking, her face buried in her hands as her shoulders shook. Her dark eyes were tormented when she finally lifted her head, taking in the careful way Joy held herself and the barely-suppressed agony in her mother’s face like it was cutting her apart.

“I… I need some air,” Mali choked out and Joy nodded silently, reaching out to twine her fingers gently with her daughter’s. Mali squeezed her hand but she could barely get a breath in and Harry must have realised something was wrong because he chose that moment to knock timidly on the door, peering round the frame curiously. His face fell at the sight of his girlfriend crying like that but he seemed to realise that there hadn’t been an argument and his face was soft when Mali ran to him.

“You want to get out of the house for a little while?” Harry asked quietly, shooting a worried look over Mali’s shaking shoulder as he saw Calum holding Joy’s hand tightly. “Would that help, babe?”

“Please,” Mali breathed but her face crumpled when she saw the love in Joy’s eyes and the pain Mali felt seemed to be crippling her. “I love you, mum,” she said, her voice shaking as her eyes blazed with sincerity. “I’m so sorry he - _God_ , mum, I love you. I’m so sorry.”

“C’mon, Mali,” Harry murmured, wrapping an arm around her when she turned her face away to cry quietly into his shoulder. “Let’s give your mum and Cal some time to talk, okay?”

Calum exhaled shakily when he heard the quiet sound of them locking the front door and he wiped his tears away distractedly when Joy cupped his face gently, taking in the roundness returning to his cheeks and the sparkling of his damp eyes.

“I’m really proud of you,” Calum whispered and Joy pressed her lips together, smiling wetly as she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “I’m glad you left him. He’s such an awful person, mum. He didn’t deserve to even look at you.”

Joy smiled again but the tears were rolling down her cheeks now and she looked so moved by what he was saying that Calum’s heart felt too big for his chest as he pulled her into a hug. She felt small against him and it shocked him just how much weight he must have put on since he’d left the hospital. For once it didn’t scare him though because he was quite sure that he would be strong enough to protect his mum now.

He would probably never forgive himself for failing her before.

“I thought you might have told your sister about what happened,” Joy said suddenly and Calum frowned down at her as he struggled to focus, feeling a lump rising in his throat again at the sadness in her comfortingly familiar dark eyes.

“That wasn’t my story to tell,” he said after a moment of hesitation. “She got bits and pieces from me maybe but… I didn’t want to go spilling all your secrets like that. It felt like a shitty thing to do.”

“Don’t swear,” she chided weakly and Calum snorted at the twinkle in her eyes.

“I love you, mum,” he said softly. “I’m so glad you’re here. Do you… do you know what you’re going to do now? Are you going to stay here with us?”

Joy faltered, looking almost like a deer in the headlights as she looked at him hopelessly.

“I… I don’t know,” she whispered after a long time. “If Mali and Harry are kind enough to let me stay then… then I think I’d just use this time to try and get my feet back under me. Maybe I’ll just stay here until I can afford somewhere small for myself… somewhere close by so I can see you a lot more.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Calum said softly but his head was reeling with it and all he could do was hold his mum closer, his arms wrapping warmly around her shoulders when he felt her trembling. “Would… would you like me to come live with you again, mum?”

Calum’s heart felt heavy in his chest as he said the words because… fuck, he might love his mum to the moon and back but that didn’t change how happy he felt living here; how fucking _brilliant_ it was to have the freedom and the care, and the inexhaustible **love** that Mali and Harry showed him when he needed it most.

“I would, love, but… no…” Joy smiled wetly as she cupped his cheek, rubbing the pad of her thumb lightly over his cheekbone. “You’re happy here. I can see it in your face and I wouldn’t take that away from you for anything, okay? Nothing in the world is worth more than your happiness. Than Mali’s happiness.” A tear slid down her already-damp cheek but for the first time, the smile touched her eyes.

“I’m so happy you’re healing, baby. You deserve to be so, _so_ happy.”

“So do you,” Calum croaked as the tears boiled over in his eyes. Joy smiled, kissing his nose to make him smile.

“And I will be,” she said. “Now that I’m free… I will be.”

Her cheeks were flushed and blotchy from crying, and she rose on shaky legs as she gestured towards the glass doors leading out onto the veranda. There were little plants growing in pots out there and the sunset had painted the sky a stunning crimson that was rapidly fading to black.

“Do you mind if we get some fresh air?” she asked and Calum smiled weakly, entwining their fingers as he led the way out onto the wooden decking. They sat silently in the chairs out there and Joy didn’t comment when her youngest child pulled a crumpled packet of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one with shaking fingers. He took a long drag on it and he could feel her eyes on him, obviously trying to work out how long he’d been smoking for and why she’d never realised before. Calum tried not to think about what Corey had told him about smoking making osteoporosis worse because he didn’t smoke very often these days anyway and, if this was what it took for him to make it through the days unscathed and without purging, he wasn’t going to try and stop right now.

That could be a problem for later.

A startled snort of laughter tore out of him when Joy swiped the cigarette and took a long drag herself, and the end of it glowed amber in the approaching darkness as she let out a deep breath Calum hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

“I’m sorry for everything that happened to you, Cal,” she said softly. “For everything you had to go through. No one deserves to suffer like that.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been so badly hurt too,” Calum whispered as she held his hand tighter.

In that moment Calum realised that, no matter what else happened, the two of them were going to be alright.

Calum was sure of it now.

He might not be happy. He might not feel whole ever again without Michael there beside him…

But Calum would survive.

He was certain.

The stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky now and Mali appeared back in the living room with Harry, their soft voices muffled through the closed glass doors. She looked at her mother for a long time in silence, her expression a heartbreaking mixture of love and pain, and Calum thought the pair of _them_ would probably be okay too.

They might not be as close as they’d been once upon a time but they still loved each other a lot and Calum was sure they’d heal in the end. It was so important to him that they tried to fix their relationship.

He stubbed the cigarette out without finishing it, imagining Corey’s worried expression and what Zoe would say about his addictive behaviour… remembered Michael’s disappointed green eyes that night in the kitchen when he stroked Calum’s curls and held him in his arms.

Calum was trying so hard to be glad that he’d survived… that he’d got to this point where he was able to view things properly and try to be grateful that he had a second chance at fixing things.

He hoped one day he might finally manage it.

“I love you, mum,” he said softly and she seemed to realise he was craving comfort because she rested her head gently on his shoulder, humming the old lullaby softly under her breath as her arm slipped round his waist.

“I love you too, Cal,” Joy said softly as the tension drained out of him. “I always will. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3
> 
> Something **HUGE** happens next chapter - and I think you might all be able to guess...


	113. Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum was still holding his gaze, his chocolate brown eyes awash with tears and love, and for just a moment Michael could see the little boy from the first time he’d ever seen him, with the sunlight dappling his face and eyes sparkling like stars._  
>  _Michael loved him so much it hurt._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys - once again, I'm sorry this has taken so long. I'm not feeling too motivated to write fanfiction at the moment but I still really want to get this one finished for you.  
> I'm not 100% happy but I wanted to get it posted for you.  
> Thank you all so much for sticking around.  
> I hope you enjoy this <3

**_I don't wanna be an island._ **

**_I just wanna feel alive and_**

**_Get to see your face again._ **

_\- Echo, Jason Walker_

 

Michael felt like he was floating in water, hanging suspended in the darkness as the world echoed around him, hidden just out of sight. He remembered everything that had happened in flashes: the deafening silence and the grey light filtering down to show the cuts carved into Calum’s arms; the mud under his nails and the sobs clawing through him when Calum ran; his fist striking Ashton’s face and Luke dragging him away in terror; Michael’s lungs aching with pain as his feet pounded the pavement; Calum’s hollow eyes and shaking hands, and the grim determination on his face as he stepped in front of the truck and Michael pushed the dark-haired boy to safety and - and -

Michael could hear Calum’s voice.

The words were soft and quiet, barely noticeable through the stormcloud of his thoughts, but Michael still heard it. He listened to the gentle rise and fall of the younger boy’s voice, felt a cool breeze dancing across his skin as he noticed the heavy woollen blankets draped over his limp form for the first time.

There was a machine beeping somewhere in the room, along with the quiet sound of at least three people breathing. Michael had become good at working out how many people were with him over the last… however long it had been. During certain times he could almost feel them with him, even when he was too far away to reach them himself; he could kid himself that the warmth surrounding his hand was someone holding it tightly; that the dampness on his cheeks was tears instead of blood.

He could hear traffic if he focused on it; someone sniffing tearfully and a weak suggestion, and then there was singing. The words were unfamiliar - his head was still too cloudy and exhausted - but he thought he’d recognise the voice singing anywhere.

It was **Calum**  and the knowledge sent Michael’s heart pounding a little harder in his chest as the suffocating numbness started to fade a little. The beeping of the machine quickened fractionally and Michael’s eyelids fluttered when he felt someone brushing his cheek. Someone was holding his hand, the blue-haired boy realised with a jolt, and as soon as he became aware of it, he realised that _that_ was Calum too.

The dark-haired boy hadn’t left him.

That meant that he was safe; that Michael had _saved_ him. That maybe they still had a second chance at fixing things.

When Michael opened his eyes, all he could see was Calum’s face. The dark-haired boy was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking plastic chair beside the bed Michael was lying in. He looked older somehow, his chocolate brown eyes deep with sorrow and grief. His curls were thicker than before and his hand felt warm around Michael’s, and the blue-haired boy squeezed it gently, taking great delight in the slack-jawed shock on Calum’s face as he gazed at Michael in complete disbelief.

The older boy smiled at Calum tiredly, his green eyes barely open because already he was exhausted, but his lips refused to stop curving upwards because this was Calum and Michael _loved_ him; he always had.

When the younger boy let out a sob and buried his face in the blankets, Michael felt anxiety start to flutter inside him. He thought about trying to sit up for a moment, meaning to push himself up on his elbows, but the sudden pain and dizziness that rushed through him quickly put pay to that idea. Michael briefly glimpsed Ashton and Luke sitting at the end of his bed but he weakened before he could greet them, slumping back down onto the pillows with a quiet pained groan.

Ashton appeared beside him, his hand shaking badly as he rubbed Michael’s shoulder gently, keeping him lying down. Calum was still sobbing nearby and Luke was smiling wetly as he rose on trembling legs too.

“Lay still,” Ashton murmured, his voice too choked up with tears to say anything more. He was crying a little bit when Michael looked up at him in helpless confusion because the blue-haired boy could feel _pain_ now, hot and burning enough that he began to think that perhaps he didn’t want to see the state of his leg under the woollen blankets.

“Ash,” Michael croaked, his voice rough from disuse as he paled visibly. He couldn’t put into words the stabbing, searing pain he felt but Luke seemed to read it in his eyes because he reached out to hit the call button, the concern in his tear-wet eyes painful to look at.

“ _Huke_?” Michael breathed and Luke smiled at him but the tears were running down his face as his fingers wound hesitantly through the older boy’s fading blue hair, making waves of calm roll through Michael; he’d always loved people stroking his hair.

“Hey, blue,” Luke said gently, his eyes soft. Ashton patted Michael’s arm gently. “We missed you.”

Calum was still crying brokenly on the bed, the sobs heavy with guilt and relief. He flinched away in embarrassment when Ashton patted his shoulder but he seemed to relax when the curly-haired boy quietly murmured that it was okay, still trying to take care of his friends even now.

Michael exchanged a concerned glance with Luke but, before he had much longer to dwell on it, the door opened to reveal a nurse he’d never seen before and - god, it was _Graham_.

“Mike!” the older man cried, rushing to his nephew’s bedside as the unfamiliar nurse injected something into Michael’s drip. The lethargy rolled over him like a wave but Michael fought to focus on his uncle as the lump in his throat threatened to choke him.

“It’s so great to see you awake again,” Graham gasped out, his eyes swimming with tears as he gave his nephew a watery smile. There was something in the older man’s face though; an uncertainty almost as he saw his nephew losing the battle with keeping his eyes open again.

“I… _what_?” Michael breathed, too tired and confused with the pain to try to understand what his uncle was saying now. He was slowly becoming aware of the fact that something was _wrong_ though; that there was some secret tainting the room and casting a shadow over everyone else’s faces. Luke saw the question in the older boy’s eyes and his face softened, became sweeter and sadder as he squeezed Michael’s arm gently.

“You’ve been in a coma for almost six months, blue,” the blond boy said softly when Graham looked at him helplessly, too lost to speak the words himself. “A lot’s happened and… and not all of it’s great but… but we’re all still here, yeah?”

Michael didn’t know what that meant and the uncertainty was making him feel sick with fear. He couldn’t believe he’d been unconscious for half a year; couldn’t believe that, despite everything that had happened between them, his parents weren’t _here_ to see him wake up.

Michael felt like he was falling and, almost as though he knew how the older boy felt, Calum’s hand found his and they held on to each other for dear life.

“You’ve got us,” Luke promised. Michael blinked back tears, leaning into the blond boy’s hand on his shoulder as he looked up at his uncle helplessly. His throat was thickening and the urge to cry was making Michael feel like he was about to choke now but the medicine in his veins was clouding his thoughts again as the edges of his vision started to dim.

“ _Gray_ ,” Michael choked out as Ashton led Luke away, giving Graham room to wind his arm gently around his nephew’s shoulders. “Gray, please, I…” A choked sob escaped Michael and he fought down against his panic as he clung to the nurse with a trembling hand. “I don’t wanna sleep again,” he sobbed, barely able to suppress his anxiety as he realised quite how long he’d been unconscious. “Please don’t make me. _Please_ -”

“Mikey, I…” Graham looked upset but he managed to remain calm, stroking the younger boy’s hair back from his forehead and pressing a gentle kiss to the pale skin there. “You’ve got to sleep to _heal_ , mate. And I’ll be just down the corridor, okay? I’m right there if you need me. I promise.”

His words were comforting and soft, and Michael felt himself relax a little as he sank back down onto the sheets, noticing with relief that the sedatives were beginning to make his limbs feel heavier now as the pain in his leg lessened a little. Ashton smiled at him comfortingly and Michael had barely let his eyes droop shut when he remembered the grief on Calum’s face; the stunned relief in his eyes and the sorrow in his expression, and the heartbroken sobs that had torn out of him.

“Calum!” Michael cried, shuddering at the ache when he tried and failed to sit up in order to get a better look at the dark-haired boy. “Oh my god, Calum! Are you okay? Were you okay? I couldn’t -”

Michael’s words died in his mouth when the dark-haired boy sat up, his eyelashes spiky with tears as they dried sticky on his cheeks. Michael had never cared about anything less when he shakily touched the younger boy’s face though, taking in Calum’s bottom lip wobbling and the hint of roundness to the younger boy’s face that hadn’t been there for so many months now.

“ ** _Cal_** ,” Michael breathed as the tears in his eyes boiled over. His relief filled him like a hot air balloon and the sob that escaped him then was full of relief because, fuck, maybe everything _had_ been worth it after all.

“ **Mikey** ,” Calum whispered, the word like a prayer in his mouth and saturated with so much awe that Michael was beginning to realise that the younger boy hadn’t expected to get this chance again. Maybe he really thought he’d lost him.

Calum’s curls were so much thicker than they had been before and Michael’s hand was clumsy as it drifted up gently to stroke the younger boy’s hair. Calum closed his eyes for a moment, clearly fighting for composure, but then he cursed softly and lunged forwards to draw the blue-haired boy into a gentle hug.

Michael tucked his face away into the younger boy’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar comforting smell of Calum’s skin and the warmth of his arms holding Michael closer. The older boy was so tired it was almost impossible to wrap his arms around Calum’s shoulders but he forced himself to move past the fog pressing in, threatening to pull him under. Michael inhaled shakily, clinging to Calum as he made a silent promise to himself that he was never, _ever_ going to let go.

“I love you,” Calum whispered into the sudden silence of the room but the words made Michael’s heart shudder in his chest. “I **love** you. **I love you**.” He was still holding Michael close and the older boy choked on another sob as he drew back unwillingly to look at Calum, holding his gaze with more solemnity than he’d ever done in his life.

“Are… are you _sure_?” Michael breathed and he hated how weak he sounded but it was so important that he made certain of this now. He couldn’t let the pair of them get hurt again.

“I like girls, Mikey,” Calum admitted, shrugging weakly as he gave a sheepish, broken smile. The adoration in his face was impossible to hide now and Michael wondered how he hadn’t been able to see it before. “But... I like you more,” Calum said seriously. “I **love** you.”

“I love you back,” Michael promised, his voice breaking with relief as all the tension bled out of him.

Calum was still holding his gaze, his chocolate brown eyes awash with tears and love, and for just a moment Michael could see the little boy from the first time he’d ever seen him, with the sunlight dappling his face and eyes sparkling like stars.

Michael loved him so much it hurt.

When Calum cradled his cheeks and leant forwards to press a gentle kiss to the older boy’s lips, Michael’s eyes fluttered shut as his heart swelled with love in his chest. Calum rubbed his cheeks gently with the pads of his thumbs, stroking the tears away, and Michael sighed contentedly into the kiss.

Dimly, he was aware of the others leaving; of Graham’s quiet reassurance that he would be back when Michael woke up again; of Luke and Ashton’s soft goodbyes as they shut the hospital room door gently.

The sedative felt more insistent now, coiling through Michael’s veins and trying to drag him down into the darkness again. It still felt scary and Michael whimpered without meaning to, hating the drip in his arm and the drugs in his veins, and how afraid he was that he might fall asleep for too long again... that maybe he wouldn't wake up at all.

“Mikey, it’s okay,” Calum murmured as he climbed onto the bed carefully, taking extra care not to knock the older boy’s broken leg. “Don’t fight it, babe. You need to sleep to heal - just like Graham said, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Michael breathed shakily, his green eyes damp with tears as he sank back into the sheets, relieved that the younger boy was so close to him now. “You won’t leave me, will you?”

“Never again,” Calum said and his voice was thick with tears but he seemed to mean it. “I promise.”

There was light sparkling in the dark-haired boy’s eyes when Michael looked up at him again and…fuck, Calum looked _alive_ again, for the first time in so long.

Calum was finally shining again.

The younger boy curled up carefully on the bed beside his oldest friend, keeping one arm looped around Michael’s shoulders as he stroked the older boy’s hair back gently from his forehead. Calum brushed a gentle kiss over the older boy’s pale cheekbone and Michael sighed softly, turning his face away into the warm skin of the dark-haired boy’s neck as Calum cuddled him carefully closer.

When Michael fell asleep wrapped safe in Calum’s arms, he felt like he was finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading.  
> It means the whole world that you guys have stuck around for as long as you have <3  
> Can you believe that I started writing Maelstrom in 2014? It's been 3 years and we're still going!!  
> I can't wait to hear what you think <3  
> Everything is finally going to be okay again :)


	114. Weak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _“There’s something you want to ask me, isn’t there?” the nurse guessed and, despite himself, a tiny smile flickered across Michael’s cherry-red lips as he crumpled the blanket in his fist._  
>  _"Why'd you lie to me, Gray?"_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, sorry it took so long. My new job is so busy and real life is hectic right now with counselling and my grandpa getting sick so I've just been really busy :(  
> I hope you guys will like this and sorry it isn't very long. I promise things will pick up when Mikey leaves hospital  
> Fingers crossed you enjoy <3

**_Forget all we said that night,_ **

**_No, it doesn't even matter,_ **

**_'Cause we both got split in two._ **

_\- Half A Heart, One Direction_

 

The sun was just beginning to rise when Graham changed out of his scrubs in the changing rooms. He could hear someone showering through the wall and the distant clang of locker doors as he left the room, his sports bag slung over his shoulder as he ran a hand through his messy, rumpled hair. He’d just finished a night shift and he was exhausted but he wanted to visit his nephew before he went back home.

The house was quiet now that Daryl had unwisely gone back to live with Karen but Graham couldn’t find it in himself to regret it… not when he knew it would only make Michael’s transition back home that much easier.

His nephew was awake when Graham arrived, peering around the door cautiously and feeling a smile break out across his tired face when Michael looked up at him. The younger boy’s face was drawn and still slightly tinged with grey but he managed a weak smile when he saw his uncle, his lips chapped and the bags under his eyes almost bruises. It seemed unbelievable that Michael could still be tired after so long unconscious but he was.

Seeing how weak he was now hurt to look at.

“Hey, mate,” the nurse said gently as he let himself into the room. “What are you up to, Mikey? You’re not sleepy?”

“Not really,” Michael said, his voice rough from misuse. “Doc just came to check on my leg. He reckons I can have the plaster cast off soon... and I can start physio this week. Just a couple more days of rest.” He dropped his phone onto the bed and settled back down on the pillows, letting out a quiet sigh. “I was looking at cat gifs on tumblr,” he said and Graham snorted in surprise. “There was a lot to catch up on after six months.”

Michael’s voice wobbled at the end and Graham sobered as he sat down at the younger boy’s bedside, entwining their fingers carefully. When Michael didn’t shudder at the contact or look distressed, Graham tightened his grip a little, giving the younger boy’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re back with us now, Mikey,” Graham said gently. “That’s all that matters.” It was quiet in the room as the world woke up outside, the sunlight filtering in through the blinds as the light became hazy. This felt like the first real conversation the pair had had although Michael had been awake for a couple of days now and there was something in the strained expression on Michael’s face that made Graham feel a little uneasy.

“There’s something you want to ask me, isn’t there?” the nurse guessed and, despite himself, a tiny smile flickered across Michael’s cherry-red lips as he crumpled the blanket in his fist.

“Yeah,” the younger boy mumbled, lowering his gaze as though the words were hard to say. “Why… why’d you lie to me, Gray? When you found out about Ash and Cal… I just… I can’t understand _why_.”

His emerald eyes looked wet when he broke off and Graham swallowed past the lump in his throat, relieved that Michael was still letting him hold his hand. At least he hadn’t pushed him away… although it would be no more than Graham deserved.

“It… it wasn’t an easy decision to make,” the older man said uncomfortably. “I just… I wanted to keep you safe, mate. I know that wasn’t my decision to make but… at the time, they didn’t want to worry you and… god, I could see how badly you were struggling. I guess I didn’t want to give you more than you could carry…” Graham’s voice trailed away and he shook his head bitterly, aware that nothing he ever said would be enough. “I’m sorry, Mike. I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know how to make it up to you.”

“Stop apologising for a start,” Michael said flatly but, when Graham risked glancing up, there was a trace of warmth in his nephew’s tired eyes. “I know you only did it because you care about me… because you _love_ me… just like I love you, right? But you’ve got to understand that I’m almost an adult, Gray. I know I struggle - who fucking doesn’t, right? - but that doesn’t mean I need you to wrap me in bubble wrap. I want you to trust me with the _truth_ , okay? I can take it, Gray. I know I can.”

“I know you can too,” Graham choked out, surprised by how badly that made him want to cry because… fuck, Michael was right. He really _was_ growing up and Graham had been holding him back… but never again.

Graham could accept that now because it was one of the truest things his nephew had ever said. Michael deserved to be treated with respect. Graham loved him endlessly and he always, always would. He’d do his best never to treat him badly again, not even when he thought he was being kind.

Michael deserved the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3  
> Please let me know what you thought!


	115. Waiting His Whole Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _"You know I don’t blame you for anything, right?” Michael asked carefully, his voice slightly strained now because this felt like one of the most important things he’d ever said. Calum simply watched him in silence, his dark eyes hopeless and full of tears. Michael raised his hand to press a kiss to the younger boy’s knuckles and he didn’t even shudder._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I'm sorry this isn't very long again but - if things go to plan - this should probably be the last hospital update now.  
> Also I'm not 100% sure how well the lyrics go with this chapter but this song always reminds me of Tempest!Malum and I wanted to use it.  
> Fingers crossed you enjoy <3

**_Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms,_ **

**_Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favourite song._ **

_\- Perfect, Ed Sheeran_

 

“You look better,” Calum said when he opened the door to Michael’s room. The older boy was sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in soft grey sweatpants and a baggy white t-shirt that looked like it might have belonged to Graham once. His blue hair was fading now, the golden brown more prevalent underneath. Michael raked a hand through his hair like he could tell what the younger boy was thinking, leaving it sticking up messily.

“I feel like shit,” Michael said bluntly but Calum knew him well enough to see the underlying anxiety in Michael’s eyes; that absolute _hatred_ of anything that made him feel vulnerable. Calum sat down on the bed beside him, wrapping his arm carefully around the older boy and suppressing his relieved sigh with difficulty when Michael slumped back against him, letting his head fall to rest in the curve of his best friend’s neck. Calum nudged him gently with his shoulder and Michael huffed out a quiet breath of laughter.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Calum’s tone was equal parts nervous and hopeful but he felt something calm inside him when Michael bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. The older boy’s pale face flushed red when Calum brushed a gentle kiss over his cheekbone.

“I don’t like physio,” Michael said but he looked mollified now as he took Calum’s hand hesitantly in his own, pausing for a moment as though getting used to the sensation before he began to play with the younger boy’s tanned fingers. “It makes me grouchy and exhausted. It’s like exercise but worse. I hate it.”

Calum tensed, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he swallowed past the lump rising in his throat. Michael’s green eyes were soft when he turned his head to press a chaste kiss to the dark-haired boy’s shoulder through his t-shirt, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

“You know I don’t blame you for anything, right?” Michael asked carefully, his voice slightly strained now because this felt like one of the most important things he’d ever said. Calum simply watched him in silence, his dark eyes hopeless and full of tears. Michael raised his hand to press a kiss to the younger boy’s knuckles and he didn’t even shudder. “A lot of things drove us to do what we did that night on the bridge, Cal… A lot of scary, horrible things that we couldn’t control… so we did what we thought was right, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Calum breathed and Michael smiled encouragingly.

“Don’t bottle things up, Cal,” the older boy said softly. “If something’s bothering you, tell me. We’ll talk it through. I think the pair of us have been emotionally stunted enough over the past year to last us a lifetime… and I’m not damn well losing you again, okay? That’s not even a fucking option now.”

“Sounds good to me,” Calum said with a weak smile but he was holding Michael’s hand like a life raft now. “I just… I can see how hard you’re trying to be okay… because you don’t want to upset anyone… and I hate that you feel like _you_ can’t be upset, Mikey. You’ve been through more than anyone and half the time no one even realised!”

Michael hung his head, staring fixedly at the ground as he tried to stay calm and not get tense; that only hurt his aching muscles more after the gruelling physio he’d just struggled through, trying to regain the muscle mass he’d lost while he’d been unconscious.

“I think you’ve been through just as much,” Michael said when he could talk again, letting his head fall to rest on Calum’s shoulder again. “I just… I was talking to Gray the other day… about why he didn’t tell me what he knew about you and Ash… and even though he apologised… even though he finally seemed to realise that I’m basically an adult now and he can tell me stuff… it only made me feel worse.”

“ _Worse_?” Calum asked in surprise. “Why? What are you thinking about?”

Michael was quiet for longer that time, his expression downcast as he glared down at where his leg was enclosed in plaster. His scowl made the pale skin of his forehead crease but the frown smoothed a little when Calum kissed his cheek again.

“I was thinking about my parents,” Michael said, and Calum winced as he remembered what Luke and Ashton had told him Karen had said about Michael. “I keep trying to act like nothing’s wrong when Gray brings it up because I know this is making him feel shitty but… it’s hurting a lot, Cal. The fact that… that mum apparently said those things… that dad actually _left_ her but he still ended up going back to her in the end. I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“Maybe you don’t have to know though,” Calum said gently as the sunlight filtered in hazily through the blinds. “No one can know how they feel all the time. Sometimes it’s a jumbled mess of thoughts and… and I’m starting to think that maybe that’s _normal,_ Mike. I think that’s just life.”

The unhappy expression faded from Michael’s face and, although he still looked slightly upset, he seemed to be trying hard to be brave.

It felt like Michael had to do that a lot lately and Calum swore then that he was going to do everything in his power to make this as easy as he could for the older boy. Michael would be coming home in a week hopefully and, although he'd have to go back fairly frequently at first for check-ups, at least it meant some small degree of normality would return.

Calum could finally focus on making Michael happy - on celebrating the older boy's birthday and maybe even playing music again if that was something Michael still wanted to do. Their lives could return to _normal_ \- whatever that meant these days.

The younger boy just hoped Michael was ready for the amount of love Calum was going to flood him in because _he_ was.

Calum felt like he'd been waiting his whole life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3
> 
> We are so, _so_ close to the end now!


	116. Too Much Too Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _“Maybe now’s not a good time.”_  
>  _“Sometimes there’s _never_ a good time,” Calum pointed out. “But that doesn’t mean things should be left unsaid. It just means you have to be even braver.”_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this took so long and that it’s a bit sad at the beginning. I wrote it over two occasions and on the first occasion I felt terrible but I’m better now. Also I’ve been rewatching Merlin again (SO MUCH ANGST) and I snuck a quote into this update so I’ll be interested to see if you can find it.  
> Fingers crossed you’ll enjoy!

**_Oh my god, oh my god._ **

**_You're finally calling me yours._ **

_\- Oh My God, Jpnsgrls_

 

Michael was trying.

He was trying so, _so_ hard but it felt impossible not to sink down into despair now. He still couldn’t walk without pain - sometimes it felt like he was never going to be able to do again - and his OCD only grew worse when he left the hospital and settled back into a warped version of his old routine at Graham’s house. Michael felt terrible but he felt even worse when he realised that even the people who loved him trying to keep him happy wasn’t enough anymore.

There was a hollow ache in Michael’s chest that made him feel alone even when he was sitting in a room of people. The only times it ever abated were on those rare quiet evenings where he saw on the sofa between Graham and Calum, and lost himself in video games and his uncle’s calming atmosphere as Calum rubbed gently circles into his neck with the pad of his thumb.

Michael hated that finding out what his mother had said made him feel like there was something missing inside him. He felt like he’d lost a part of himself that night on the bridge and, no matter how many times he convinced Calum and Graham, and Ashton and Luke that everything was okay… Michael was starting to wonder if he was _always_ going to feel like this… so tired and sad… a glass half empty almost.

Michael thought Luke could see it sometimes. His clever blue eyes tightened whenever he saw Michael looking lost or faraway, and the strained sympathy on the taller boy’s face might have made Michael self-defensive and prickly once upon a time but he didn’t have the energy for it anymore.

He just felt sad now.

It was especially hard on occasions where Michael felt like he _had_ to be happy - when he felt like people were expecting his old cheerfulness and the mischievous streak that always made things fun - and Michael struggled to deliver that again on the night of his birthday.

He celebrated it at the bowling alley with Calum, Luke and Ashton - an idea Graham had proposed because it was something they’d never done together before which would hopefully mean it didn’t bring back any bad memories - and Michael was trying _hard_ to stay positive.

It did admittedly become easier when Ashton proved himself unable to even keep the bowling ball in their lane and the beer Calum had bought for him from the bar was helping. Michael tried to keep up a constant litany of complaints whenever Luke got _another_ strike and Calum’s pouting as their score gradually worsened was quite amusing too but Michael was still exhausted.

Calum seemed to be able to tell. His arm slipped around Michael’s shoulder whenever the older boy grew quiet between telling jokes and ever murmured: “I love you” set the light in Michael burning a little brighter. His hair shone silver under the lights now, freshly dyed with Calum’s help a few days before over the side of the bath while Graham kept up a running commentary from the landing. It felt like a fresh start and it helped a little bit.

“Love you,” Calum whispered while Luke and Ashton flirted with each other on the opposite bench, clearly with eyes only for each other. Calum brushed a fleeting kiss over Michael’s cheek and the older boy hummed quietly as he leant back into his boyfriend’s embrace.

“I love you too, baby,” Michael said, smiling faintly. His green eyes glimmered faintly and Calum seemed to take heart from that, even as Michael’s shoulders slumped again when he saw how happy Luke and Ashton looked together. Watching them now, Michael couldn’t help but think of the faint frown creasing Calum’s concerned face as he held his own boyfriend close.

Michael hated that he was making Calum sad now. His boyfriend deserved to be _happy_.

“Guys,” Calum said loudly, cutting over Ashton and Luke as the pair of them chatted away happily. “You mind if me and Mikey take a break? Get some fresh air?”

Ashton wriggled his eyes in a silly way when he heard that but Calum looked glad of it when Michael snorted in weak amusement. Luke looked relieved and the dark-haired boy nodded gratefully as he slipped an arm around Michael’s waist while Ashton scrambled to fetch Michael’s crutches for him.

“Quickly, Cal,” the silver-haired boy said weakly and, although Ashton and Luke exchanged even sillier grins like they thought the pair of them were escaping for a different reason entirely, Michael couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was too focused on the relief flooding through him as Calum pressed a chaste kiss to his overheated cheek and helped him limp towards the entrance.

The day was drawing to a close outside and the first stars were already beginning to shine when Calum pushed Michael down lightly onto a bench in the cool night air. The silver-haired boy exhaled shakily and Calum sat silently beside him, his teeth worrying his bottom lip although he kept his hand rubbing the older boy’s back comfortingly.

“I… I don’t know why this feels so _hard_ ,” Michael whispered with something like pain in his eyes. He looked up at Calum helplessly and felt a lump rising in his throat when he saw the sympathy shining in the dark-haired boy’s gaze. Calum was so beautiful in the moonlight now.

Michael didn’t know what he’d done right to deserve someone like him.

“Maybe this was just too much too soon,” Calum said softly. “No one’s going to think badly of you if you want to go home, babe. You’ve only been back with Gray for a little while. If you’re tired, no one will mind going home.”

“I know,” Michael said and any fight had gone from him now, draining away like snowmelt as he sat there numbly on the bench, swallowing past his exhausted tears. “But it’s not that. I’m _glad_ I’m out of hospital and everything is as close to normal as it’s probably going to get. I just… I feel _terrible_ , Cal, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

“I don’t understand,” Calum said and the uncertainty on his face took years from him as he hunched up anxiously, wrapping one arm tight around himself as he looked at Michael with wide eyes. “What is it, Mikey?” His voice was small and worried, and Michael wanted to hold him in his arms but he was too focused on trying to keep himself from falling apart because they were meant to be celebrating his _birthday_ , damnit - not crying alone in the car park.

“What’s upsetting you?” Calum asked again and Michael’s forced smile was too bitter to be in any way reassuring.

“Everything,” the older boy said and Calum flinched without meaning to. Michael reached out to hold his hand unthinkingly. “Life just feels so fragile now, Cal,” he explained and his voice was kind of shaking now but Calum’s eyes were locked on his face. “I mean… I… I could have _lost_ you. I could have lost Ash before that when he got hurt… or Luke could have got killed by his dad and his brothers…” Michael’s heart was thumping too fast in his chest now and he exhaled unevenly. “God, _all_ of us could’ve… we could’ve…”

“But we didn’t,” Calum cut in softly, his words gentler now that he knew he hadn’t upset his boyfriend. “We’re all still here - still **fighting**. That isn’t going to change, Mikey..”

Michael nodded morosely and Calum forced a smile, twisting on the bench so that he was sitting cross-legged because that brought him closer to his boyfriend. Calum cupped Michael’s face gently in his hands, cradling the older boy’s cheeks and pressing a gentle kiss to his cherry-red lips. The sleeves of the baggy sweatshirt Calum was wearing slipped back a little and Michael’s calmer expression flickered with pain.

“There’s something else bothering you,” Calum noticed and he didn’t bother to pull his sleeves back into place although it obviously pained him not to. Michael’s pride burnt in his chest like the sun. “What is it, babe?”

“You know me too well,” Michael said but Calum refused to be drawn into the deflection, simply smiling a little sadly and sticking his tongue out when Michael pretended to look offended.

“What is it?” Calum asked, giving the older boy a gentle poke on the nose in reprimand when Michael remained uncertain.

“I just… Maybe now’s not a good time.”

“Sometimes there’s _never_ a good time,” Calum pointed out. “But that doesn’t mean things should be left unsaid. It just means you have to be even braver.”

Michael’s hand was shaking a little when he reached to brush his fingertips over Calum’s fading scars.

“It’s just…” The older boy swallowed nervously as he took his boyfriend’s words to heart. “Why did you never tell me, Cal? That you were hurting _that_ badly… Why didn’t you say?”

Calum shrugged like it made perfect sense… like that one dismissive action _didn’t_ cut Michael’s heart out of his chest and stamp on it.

“Because I can hurt myself but I could never choose to hurt you,” Calum said. The words were spoken bluntly, the tone too bland to be anything _but_ forced, and Michael saw the hastily-suppressed pain in Calum’s eyes for what it was.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of the younger boy’s mouth and, when Calum gave a little hum of surprise and parted his lips in contentment, Michael pushed forwards to deepen the kiss. Calum’s hands rose to rise in his boyfriend’s hair almost unconsciously and the silver-haired boy sighed softly when the dark-haired boy finally drew away to breathe.

“That needs to change,” Michael said quietly when his lungs felt like they were ready to work again. He pressed a tiny kiss to Calum’s nose and the dark-haired boy blushed adorable. “You can’t hurt yourself like that, Cal. You _can’t_.”

“I don’t want to,” Calum said. “I’m trying.”

“I know you are.” Michael hated that he looked sad but he felt a rush of something fiercely protective inside when Calum leant his cheek into the older boy’s palm. “Just… I can’t lose you, Calum. I _won’t_ lose you. Not again.”

Calum was biting his lip again now, clearly torn between flushing in pleasure at Michael’s obvious affection and looking uncomfortable at how personal this conversation had become in a rather short period of time.

“Maybe this _wasn’t_ the best time to have this conversation after all,” Calum said but he was smiling a tiny bit and the lilt to his words told Michael that he was only joking.

“You started it,” he said, sticking his tongue out because that was obviously how a mature adult dealt with things. “We seem to be having this conversation right now so I guess it’ll have to be the right time, won’t it?”

“You’re so stubborn,” Calum grinned but he was marvelling at his boyfriend now and the dimples in his cheeks looked deep enough to swim in.

“Course I am, baby,” Michael said and his smirk didn’t feel so strained anymore. “That’s never going to change.”

“Good,” Calum said and his eyes were shining now as he smiled infectiously. “I don’t want you to change for anything, Mike. I want you to always be you.”

Michael’s cheeks heated with blood and he hid his smile in Calum’s neck when the dark-haired boy wrapped his arms around his shoulders, burying his face in the older boy’s shoulder and mouthing at the pale skin of his throat. Michael’s breath hitched audibly and he fought down a whimper when he felt Calum smiling against his skin.

The soft moan that escaped Michael when Calum sucked a bruise into his neck was far too loud for the quiet of the night and Calum laughed softly against his skin, his breath hot enough that the older boy shuddered when his boyfriend finally drew back to look at him with darkened eyes.

“Mine,” Calum said and Michael’s heart was singing in his chest now. Calum kissed him again and it felt like coming home. “You’re all mine - and you’re _safe_ , okay? We’re all safe and we’re all together, and right now that’s all that matters.”

Michael resisted the urge to sing We’re All In This Together but he thought maybe Calum could see the stupid joke hidden in the upward curve of his mouth because the younger boy rolled his eyes with exasperation, smiling fondly as he leant forwards to press a kiss to the bruise on Michael’s neck. The silver-haired boy shivered at the cool air when his boyfriend moved away.

“You’re _mine_ , babe, and I’m yours,” Calum promised and, beneath the mirth sparkling in his eyes, the sincerity was obvious. “That’s never going to change.”

Michael felt happier after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!  
> I can’t wait to hear what you thought <3


	117. Absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Michael let out a quiet sob. “I have to keep doing it. I’m exhausted and I hate it. It_ h-hurts _,” he croaked and his voice broke then. “But I don’t know how to stop, Cal. I_ can’t _stop.”_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look at me unironically using Bonnie Tyler lyrics again.  
> Sorry this is a bit angsty too but it needed to happen. Oh well.  
> Hope you enjoy this!

**_I know you’ll never be the boy,_ **

**_You always wanted to be,_ **

**_But every now and then,_ **

**_I know you’ll always be the only boy,_ **

**_Who wanted me the way that I am._ **

_\- Total Eclipse Of The Heart, Bonnie Tyler_

 

The four of them had played music again the night before and Calum could still barely believe it. The thrill of it had sent excitement thundering through his veins like adrenaline and he felt more alive than he had done in a very, very long time.

Maybe he’d missed playing his bass and singing more than he’d realised… or maybe last night had just been tangible proof that the four of them were finally healing… that maybe their band might actually _become_ something now.

Maybe they hadn’t missed their chance after all.

Calum felt content as he shifted to find a more comfortable position on Graham’s sofa, his dark eyes sleepy and calm as he sat there in a baggy t-shirt over an old pair of Michael’s tracksuit bottoms. His scars were no longer livid on his arms but fading now, and his dark curls were soft and fluffy under one of Michael’s old beanies.

Graham was sitting at the dining room table and the silver-haired boy was lay tucked up under Calum’s arm, his head resting under the younger boy's chin as he rested his bad leg on a cushion in front of them. The television was chattering away in the background of the darkened room but Calum was more focused on Michael: on his tired green eyes and the smooth strip of pale skin where his t-shirt had got rucked up that Calum was stroking idly with his thumb. Michael’s hands were curled into fists and Calum blinked in surprise when he noticed, although he didn’t call his boyfriend out on it; instead he simply did his best to ease the tension from Michael’s shoulders by gently rubbing his back.

Graham excused himself after a little while, murmuring something about picking up a newspaper from the shop. He ruffled Michael’s hair on the way past and patted Calum on the shoulder, and when the dark-haired boy glanced up to smile at the nurse, he was surprised to see the surprisingly calculating look Graham was shooting him as he glanced deliberately towards Michael’s curled fists. Frowning, Calum nodded slowly and he bit his lip when Graham gave him a relieved smile before disappearing outside. The silence grew thicker when he was gone and Michael let out a shuddering breath that Calum hadn’t realised he’d been holding in.

“Babe?” Calum asked softly, leaning down to brush his lips over Michael’s soft silver hair. “What is it, Mikey? What’s wrong?”

Michael shrugged, the movement brittle and _aching_ , and Calum felt sadness welling up inside him like the tide. The older boy’s knuckles were almost bone-white now and he felt small tucked up against the dark-haired boy's chest.

“You’re hurting yourself,” Calum whispered and Michael snorted scornfully but he still made an effort to listen to what his boyfriend had said. Michael was shaking as his hands slowly uncurled and Calum’s heart juddered painfully in his chest when he saw the bloody crescent moons dug into the older boy’s palms. Michael shuddered when he saw the blood under his nails and lurched painfully to his feet, limping out of the room so swiftly that Calum simply sat there on the sofa in stunned silence for a moment, staring blankly at the television screen through dark eyes that were wide with shock.

Dimly, he heard the sound of the tap running and what might have been a muffled sob. Calum rose shakily, padding out into the kitchen with anxiety fluttering inside him. He could see Michael hunched over the sink now, his shoulders shaking as he washed his hands under the hot stream of water. Steam was rising from the sink and Calum was afraid Michael was going to burn himself. He was more frightened than he’d felt in a very long time.

“Mikey?” he murmured, his voice tight and strained. There was no response, save for another low choked sob as Michael scrubbed at his hands with the brush. The silver-haired boy’s face was flushed and the redness in his cheeks was spreading in splotches down his pale throat; a sure sign that he was _really_ upset. The only time Calum had ever seen him worse than this was that night on the bridge and his heart was racing as he watched his boyfriend now.

“Babe, please,” Calum choked out and his hand was shaking when it settled on Michael’s tense shoulder. The older boy leant back against him with a broken whimper but his hands stayed under the stream of water. “I want to help you,” Calum said tearfully, and Michael’s agonised eyes found his in the reflection of the window but all Calum could think of was that day when Michael dropped his door keys on the floor and broke down crying, too afraid to touch them. Michael hadn’t even been able to touch his own _shoelaces_ that day. “Let me help you,” Calum pleaded.

When Michael didn’t shove him away, the dark-haired boy reached out to turn the hot tap off, letting the cool water run over Michael’s reddened fingers instead. He flinched a bit when Calum rubbed a soothing thumb over his cheek but the fight had melted out of him now and his head fell back to rest on his boyfriend’s shoulder in exhaustion when Calum turned the cold water off too.

The silence in the kitchen felt deafening until Calum pressed a gentle kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek, winding a gentle arm around the older boy’s soft tummy. Calum led Michael over to the dining room table and pushed him down carefully into one of the chairs, making sure to take care of his bad leg. Calum bit his bottom lip nervously when Michael refused to meet his gaze because the older boy's embarrassed flush was worse than ever now and Calum felt a lump rising in his throat as he knelt down to gently thumb the older boy’s tears away.

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispered but Calum simply pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead, keeping one hand soothingly stroking the back of Michael’s neck where his skin had got clammy in his stress.

“Don’t be,” Calum murmured, tilting the older boy’s chin up gently so that he could drop a kiss onto his boyfriend’s lips. The little scratches on Michael’s palms were starting to well blood again and Calum’s face fell. “I’m going to find some cream for your hands so that they aren’t too sore. Would that be okay?”

Michael pressed his lips together like it was the very _opposite_ of okay but he still nodded weakly and Calum had never been prouder of him. The dark-haired boy disappeared off in search of some antiseptic cream and it took him long enough that Michael had _almost_ got himself back under control by the time Calum reappeared.

“How are you feeling?" the younger boy asked uncertainly when Michael looked up at him with tear-red eyes. The older boy shrugged, smiling humourlessly but his face was pale and he looked upset with himself, something that Calum couldn’t _stand_. “I found the cream,” Calum announced, brandishing it awkwardly and hating the way Michael seemed to fold in on himself. “Are you sure you don’t mind if I –”

“You can do it,” Michael said in a tone like he was giving up. “It can’t exactly make me feel _worse_ , can it?” His face still screwed up when Calum gently dabbed the cream on though and Michael hissed like it was hurting his torn skin, instead of soothing it the way Calum had intended.

“You think I’m a freak, don’t you?” Michael whispered and Calum jerked his head up in shock from where he’d been kneeling down to apply the cream. The dark-haired boy’s eyes filled with tears and he set the tub down shakily, reaching up to cradle Michael’s sore hands in both of his own. When Michael's shoulders slumped, Calum brushed a gentle kiss over his knuckles.

“Never in a million years would I ever think that,” Calum promised, trying _so_ hard not to break down in tears, and something in Michael’s face seemed to cave in on itself as Calum realised with a horrible jolt quite how badly the older boy was still hurting.

“My mum did,” Michael said and his shoulders were growing tense again now as he hunched up in the chair, trembling as he hung his head dejectedly. The tears were rolling down his cheeks and he looked so ashamed of himself that Calum felt something wilt inside him. “She told me I was a freak all the time. That I wasn’t good enough. That I was… that I wasn’t even her _son_ anymore…”

Michael broke off in tears and Calum kissed his hands again, fighting not to remember when his dad had said those same words to him in a darkened hallway on a night that felt a million years ago now.

“Your mum was so, _so_ fucking wrong,” Calum said fiercely and Michael looked up at him in surprise, his eyelashes spiky with tears as a tiny sob escaped him at the sheer _love_ on his boyfriend's face.

"I love you," Michael rasped and Calum gave him a watery smile.

“I love you too,” he promised softly. “I always will.”

Michael leant his cheek into Calum’s palm with a quiet sigh and the dark-haired boy pressed a chaste kiss to his overheated cheek. “I think it’s time to talk about this, Mikey… because whatever this is, we’ll get through it together. I know we will.”

Michael shivered, biting his bottom lip just a little too hard as he squared his shoulders, apparently steeling himself for what he was about to say. His silver hair was sticking to his sweaty skin and his green eyes were swollen from crying but god, Calum swore he'd never looked more beautiful.

“I have OCD,” Michael whispered and Calum held him a little bit closer, carding his fingers through Michael’s hair where the older boy had tucked his face away into his boyfriend’s chest. Calum kept Michael tucked up there safely until his breathing had calmed and Michael looked immensely grateful for it when he finally drew back. “Gray once told me that… that it was like diabetes or asthma. Just another health condition that I shouldn’t be ashamed of.” Michael’s small laugh sounded brittle and Calum felt a rush of anger towards Karen Clifford for yet _another_ way she’d made Michael feel like he wasn’t good enough.

“He told me to snap elastic bands whenever the compulsions got too bad.” Michael’s voice was shaking but he reached towards the fruit bowl on the table and tugged an elastic band out from underneath it. Apparently Graham had stashed them all over the house for his nephew and Calum’s warmth towards Michael’s uncle only grew. “I guess today I just… let things get on top of me. I could _feel_ it building up and… and I didn’t try to stop it. I just gave in… the way I always do.”

All of the anger had bled away from Michael now and he looked hollow in its absence, like the smoke and ashes left behind after a terrible fire.

“Does giving in help?” Calum prompted gently, badly needing Michael to come to the same realisation that he was rapidly approaching. Calum hated the anguished look Michael shot him; hated that he had to ask this even though he already knew the answer… even though _he_ had been in Michael’s position not so long ago too, so he _knew_ how terrible this line of questioning felt.

“No,” Michael whispered. “Of course not.” His eyes were overflowing with tears again now and his shoulders had grown tense once more as the self-loathing rippled over his flushed face. “But it doesn’t change anything.” He was glaring down at his shaking hands now; at the cream on his skin and the scratches there, and Calum wanted to kiss the blood away but he wasn’t even sure it would _help_.

Michael let out a quiet sob. “I have to keep doing it. I’m exhausted and I hate it. It _h-hurts_ ,” he croaked and his voice broke then. “But I don’t know how to stop, Cal. I _can’t_ stop.”

Calum brushed the tears away from beneath Michael’s tired eyes and the older boy looked up at him hopelessly, his eyes sad and so exhausted that Calum never wanted to stop holding him.

“You’re not weak for needing help, Mike,” Calum said quietly, tugging the beanie off and dropping it on the table, leaving his dark curls sticking up messily. Michael’s fond smile was faint but at least it was there and, heartened, Calum tried once more. “Maybe you could talk to a professional about this,” he suggested hesitantly but he could see Michael withdrawing before his eyes. “It… it might _help_.”

“It wouldn’t,” Michael said but the panic in his eyes was all too clear and Calum knew he didn’t mean what he was saying. He was just defensive and afraid which was never a good combination for anyone, let _alone_ someone as indignant as Michael could be. “Why would you even ask me to do that?!”

Calum’s sad smile was faint but his eyes were glassy with tears.

“Because it saved my life,” he said simply. “Surely that’s worth something.”

The tears in Michael’s eyes boiled over slowly but all Calum could see was the grudging _hope_ blossoming on the older boy’s face as he watched Calum desperately. His silver hair was sticking to his forehead and his hands were still sore beneath the cream but Calum’s heart felt like it was melting in his chest when he pressed a gentle kiss to the end of Michael’s nose, making him smile and duck his head.

“You’re gonna be okay, babe,” Calum whispered and he knew the words were true; felt it resonating through him when Michael caught his lips in an urgent kiss. “I’m here and I accept you and I always will. No matter what, Mikey. I’m not leaving you.” Calum blushed as he spoke but he knew Michael needed to hear these words and that was what gave him the courage to say them out loud; to make himself so vulnerable before someone who had always had the power to break him.

“I think I was blind before I fell in love with you,” Michael choked out, and Calum’s heart seemed to swell in his chest as the love and warmth crashed inside him like a wave.

“We’re going to fix this, Mikey,” Calum promised and he’d never meant anything more than this. “You’re not on your own anymore. You never will be again.” He pressed a hard kiss to Michael’s forehead; a kiss that promised support and love, and bickering and compromises, and a million more moments of **them** for the rest of their lives.

“I trust you,” Michael whispered and the dark-haired boy closed his eyes against the tears threatening. “I love you more than anything.”

That was all Calum needed to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3  
> If all goes to plan this is one of the last angsty chapters in the fic now!


	118. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _Michael stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend and Luke snickered from nearby in the moments before Ashton caught his lips in a gentle kiss, and then Calum was just smiling down at Michael gently and everything suddenly felt very **safe**. Michael never wanted to be anywhere else._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm sorry this took so long but I hope you're all okay!  
> This update didn't exactly go the way I planned and I changed the lyrics too but this song just really feels like it was made for Tempest so I had to change it.  
> Fingers crossed you like it!

**_So take your razor love,_ **

**_And run it down my skin._ **

**_If I bleed too much,_ **

**_It's my consequence._ **

_\- My Consequence, Hey Violet_

 

Michael still felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. It didn’t make sense to him that everything might finally be _okay_ now. He was still waiting for the moment when Calum realised he was a freak and shoved him away in disgust but… but it wasn’t happening. Calum seemed to mean it when he told Michael he loved him and, as guilty as that made the older boy feel, he had always been greedy; he was going to keep Calum close for as long as he could.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, Calum's arms tightened comfortingly around his boyfriend's shoulders and Michael melted against him. His back was pressed to the younger boy’s chest and Calum was pressing absent kisses to Michael’s silver hair as the pair of them slouched there in the field. A low breeze stirred the parched grass and Ashton giggled from nearby, cocooned similarly in Luke’s arms as the four of them listened to the music playing from the speakers. The scent of hot dogs lingered on the air but Calum seemed to be comforting himself with the smell of Michael’s coconut shampoo. The older boy sighed deeply as tension he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding seeped out of him like air from a balloon.

“You okay, babe?” Calum murmured, his voice too quiet for Luke and Ashton to hear where they were lounging a short distance away. The sky was a warm blue overhead and Michael's bad leg was stretched out in front of him, propped up on Luke’s carefully-folded denim jacket which had been sweet of the blond boy to offer. Michael tipped his head back and smiled at Calum upside down, stretching up to press a clumsy kiss to his boyfriend’s chin.

“I’m okay,” Michael promised and it surprised him a little when he realised he meant it, although he didn’t see why it should. He was at an outdoor concert with his three best friends on the planet, wrapped in the arms of the boy he loved more than anything. Why would Michael feel anything less than content?

“I love you,” Calum reminded him and the green-eyed boy smiled wider when Calum ducked his head to kiss him back.

“I love you too,” Michael promised but his eyes were glittering now. “Did you just Spiderman kiss me? I think you did. I think that was awesome.”

“I think you’re silly,” Calum replied but his dimples were creasing his cheeks now as he poked Michael lightly on the nose. “I think you’re the silliest, cutest, most amazing human I’ve ever met.”

“I think you're weird. I think you smell like coleslaw,” Michael lied, because his feelings were hard to process sometimes and making Calum snicker felt important.

"Dork," the dark-haired boy said fondly but he was smiling wider as Michael shuffled down so that his head was cushioned comfortably on his boyfriend’s lap. Calum’s hands fell to card through his hair and Michael hummed contentedly as he closed his eyes.

The main act hadn’t yet come out on stage but the songs blasting from the speakers were comforting and familiar, and the silver-haired boy felt calmer than he had in a long time. He was so glad Graham had convinced him to go.

"We're on a double date," Luke piped up suddenly, making Ashton let out a surprised peal of laughter. "How am I only just realising now? God, are we gonna be _those_ couples?”

“I think we are already are,” Calum said wryly. “We go to the beach and get iced coffees, and we went ice-skating at that place Mali and Harry found the other day. I’d say we are _exactly_ like those couples. At least we haven't started feeding each other off forks yet though. That's past the point of no return I think.”

“Gross,” Michael teased, wrinkling his nose. The temperate was hot without being uncomfortable and the silver-haired boy was smiling so wide his cheeks ached.

“As if,” Calum grinned. "As _if_ you think that."

Michael stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend and Luke snickered from nearby in the moments before Ashton caught his lips in a gentle kiss, and then Calum was just smiling down at Michael gently and everything suddenly felt very **safe**. Michael never wanted to be anywhere else.

The song playing from the speakers changed and Luke made an excited noise from nearby which only confirmed that it was Good Charlotte playing. Ashton’s hazel eyes were fond as he looked at the joy blooming on the youngest boy’s face and Calum reached hesitantly to lace his fingers with Michael’s. When the silver-haired boy tightened his grip without wincing, Calum smiled like he was coming home.

Michael liked all of the song _Life Can’t Get Much Better_ but he’d never bothered to listen to the lyrics properly before, not even the chorus. Something in Luke’s excitement made him pay attention now though and, as the words washed over him, Michael felt them echoing somewhere deep inside him because they felt _real_ now.

They felt like he’d lived through something horrible and made it out the other side, and now he could finally feel the sun on his skin again. It felt like waking up from a nightmare and realising that the person you loved most was right there beside you, stroking your hair away and peppering your face with gentle kisses.

It felt like waking up beside Calum and realising, with a wonderful warmth in his chest, that the pair of them could have this for the rest of their lives if they wanted… and _god_ , Michael wanted it so bad. He'd never wanted anything **more**.

“ _Life can't get much better. Let's just stay together. These scars are tokens of promises broken. Life can't get much better. Let's just stay forever. We've got to hold on; we've waited so long._ ”

When the song ended, the four of them simply sat there holding each other. Luke's smile was almost as loving as Calum's and the tears in Ashton's eyes mirrored the dampness in Michael’s, and _god_ , the silver-haired boy was happy. He was so, _so_ happy.

That feeling stayed inside Michael for the rest of the day: when the main act finally came out and the four of them cheered themselves hoarse; when the sun went behind a cloud and Calum cuddled him tighter; when Graham kindly agreed to pick the four of them up and Michael fell into the seat beside Calum, his arm looped around his boyfriend’s shoulders because he never wanted to let him go; when they sank down onto Michael’s bed later that evening and held each other close, with hips grinding together and hands stroking soft hair as they kissed like they were starving for air; when Calum fell asleep in Michael’s arms afterwards, like he felt happy and safe and loved.

Calum made Michael feel _whole_ and, although it probably wasn’t healthy to be so dependent on someone, Michael didn’t think there was much he could do about it anymore. He and Calum had always been co-dependent – always a pair – and that was probably the way it would always be. They’d been **MichaelAndCalum** for as long as either of them could remember and that was why they stayed together now, despite the love, friendship, and shared memories… because when they parted, it felt like their souls were being cleaved in two, and when they were together, everything was bright and peaceful.

A world where **MichaelAndCalum** were in love was a beautiful thing.

Michael hoped it never changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3
> 
> We're so, so close to the end now! I can't believe it's nearly over :O


	119. Flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _Calum had never seen a perfect person before but Michael was… with his messy hair and clothes strewn everywhere and fluttering eyelashes and sore knuckles and elastic band tangled between his fingers…_  
>  _God, Michael was the most perfect person Calum had ever seen._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!  
> Hopefully you enjoy <3

**_With your hands on my face,_ **

**_Said: "It don't matter, babe, 'cause I'm always on your side."_ **

**_Life's isn't pretty._ **

**_We all get a little wrecked sometimes._ **

_\- On Your Side, The Veronicas_

 

Things were finally beginning to fall into place.

Calum could feel it in everything he did; the warmth and comfort pulsing through his veins, making him feel less alone. He still ached and hurt sometimes but at least his heart was back in his chest now; Michael had put it there himself, sheltering it in Calum’s fragile ribs while he breathed the life back into him. Smiling didn’t hurt Calum’s cheeks anymore. He didn’t always feel like crying or breaking down, and falling asleep in Michael’s arms felt like the safest thing in the world. The memories didn’t feel like they were going to drag Calum down into an endless ocean of pain anymore either; they were more like a lake instead, still painful and gently rippling but calming now… healing.

Just like his bruised family.

Joy was settling into her own small flat but she still visited her daughter and Harry a lot, and that made Calum happier than he could put into words. All he’d wanted was for his mum and Mali to heal their broken relationship, and even that was finally beginning to happen. They weren’t so frayed around the edges anymore; they had grown soft instead… soft enough to forgive and move on, the way Calum had _wished_ they would what felt like a million years ago.

Joy was there tonight actually, probably eating a meal Harry had cooked on the veranda with her daughter beside her, listening to the tide roll in as the sun gradually sank behind the cliffs, painting the skies violet and ruby.

It was a beautiful dusk but Calum barely paid it any mind, too focused on lying beside Michael on the older boy’s bed, one hand carding gently through his silvery hair as they listened to the quiet sound of Graham pottering around downstairs.

Calum had eaten noodles for dinner, cooked himself while Michael sat on the kitchen counter to keep him company. They’d realised a while ago that Calum found it easier to eat if he’d prepared the food himself - a lesson he'd learnt during his stay at the Windmill Clinic - and it helped even more if Michael was there beside him, holding his hand and lending him silent strength.

Because of this, Calum found it a lot easier to relax in the quiet house than he ever would have before, just focusing on Michael’s warmth seeping through his thin t-shirt and the comforting coconut smell of the older boy’s hair, soft against the underside of Calum’s chin.

“I love you,” the dark-haired boy murmured and Michael hummed contentedly, pressing a sleepy kiss to his boyfriend’s jaw. Calum smiled when Michael whispered the words back. There was something niggling in Calum though; something uneasy and tense that had only bubbled to life when he’d lay down on this bed again.

After a long moment, Calum realised what was wrong.

“Mikey,” he said and there must have been something that caused alarm in his voice because the older boy looked up worriedly. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Michael breathed, his beautiful green eyes wide with concern.

“If we... when we have sex again, I... I thought I should tell you...” Calum's cheeks were flaming as he stumbled over his words but he knew he had to finish speaking; this was too important not to say out loud. He wasn't going to let himself get hurt again... not even for Michael. _Especially_ not for Michael. There’d been enough of that between them to last him a lifetime.

“I don’t like it when you fuck me, Mike.” Calum had to close his eyes to get the words out and he cringed at how blunt they sounded, hating himself for the tiny broken sound that escaped Michael as he processed what his boyfriend was saying.

“ _Oh_ ,” Michael choked out but his voice sounded too high, like Calum had punched him in the stomach. "Did I... Oh god, did I make you feel like you had to _force_ yourself to… to do that for me?”

Michael shook like he was going to fall apart and Calum – heart aching in his chest – rushed to fix things.

“I love being close to you. I _love_ it but... but not like that,” the dark-haired boy said softly. “It makes me feel awful and I don't know why; maybe it's the memories... maybe it's something else but... I can't do it anymore. It makes me feel so panicky and sick if I even _think_ about it, and I feel terrible for saying this to you but… but I can’t do it again, Mikey. I _can't_... and... and everyone's always telling me to say how I feel... so I am... and I just hope you don't hate me for it.”

“I could never hate you, Cal," Michael whispered but there were tears welling up in his eyes now as twisted to sit beside his boyfriend, carefully cradling Calum’s face in shaking hands. The touch didn’t seem to faze him at all. “God, I’m so, _so_ sorry. I wish you’d told me earlier but… but thank you for telling me now. I’m so sorry I made you feel like that.”

“I wanted to be close to you,” Calum said honestly, his dark eyes damp too. “It was worth it at the time. Now I know we can be close without that. Just being here with you now is enough.”

Michael lowered his head, breathing deep in an attempt to calm himself. After a long moment, he looked up and managed a faint smile, his eyelashes wet and spiky with tears.

“Thank you for telling me,” he repeated, brushing the gentlest of kisses over Calum’s full lips. “I love you to the moon, Cal… and... just so you know, if you _do_ want to have sex again - and there's no pressure; no pressure at all - there are other ways we can be close.” Michael was blushing now, his cheeks heating a soft rosy pink, and Calum swallowed despite himself. “I’m happy to… y’know… to bottom. That’s… fine with me. _More_ than fine to be honest…”

“Okay,” Calum whispered and a tiny smile was curving his lips now as the relief soared through him. “I love you, Mikey. So much.”

“Love you too,” Michael said, wrapping his arms around Calum’s waist and tugging him down lightly so that they could lie together, entangled in each other’s arms as they slowly calmed down. Michael’s kisses were soft and slow as he gradually edged towards Calum’s lips, and the dark-haired boy sighed contentedly when Michael’s mouth finally covered his own.

When the older boy finally drew away to let them both breathe, Michael was smiling deliriously and the love swelling in Calum’s chest was almost too much to breathe past.

“Anything else you feel like getting off your chest, Cal?” Michael teased but there was sincerity blazing in his eyes all the same and Calum couldn’t help it when he kissed him again.

“Only one thing,” the younger boy said as a thrill of _something_ rippled through him. “I hated when you let them mark you, Mike. I _hated_ it.”

“ _Cal_ ,” Michael said weakly, his tone surprised but _so_ turned on. Calum’s hands were possessive as they settled on the older boy’s hips and Michael whimpered when Calum settled down over him, careful not to put too much weight on him because, even now, he was worried.

“You're mine,” Calum said and Michael’s eyes grew darker as his fingers twisted in the back of Calum’s sweatshirt, holding him closer.

“Yours,” Michael repeated but his breath was rasping out of him now and Calum could feel how hard he was against the younger boy’s thigh. “We should do it,” Michael said out of nowhere, making Calum draw back in clumsy surprise. “Right now. You should fuck me.”

“What?” Calum groaned, his eyes widening in dazed shock. “ _Now_? You really mean it?”

“Yes,” Michael promised, blushing but determined enough that Calum knew he was telling the truth. “Please, Cal! I’ve wanted you for so long now. _Please_.”

“Okay,” Calum whispered, smoothing Michael’s silver hair back from his face in an effort to calm them both. “Okay, Mikey. Tell me what to do, yeah? I don’t want to hurt you.”

' _Never again_ ,' Calum promised himself silently.

Michael did as the dark-haired boy asked and, although it was awkward and fumbling at first, Calum felt something heal inside his chest. The trust in Michael’s eyes was only outweighed by the love shining there and, in that moment, Calum felt something click into place; this was how they should have been all along.

Things finally felt _right_.

Michael was sobbing a little bit as they neared the end, his ankles hooked behind Calum's back to urge him deeper, his face tucked away into the younger boy's throat as he pressed desperate kisses there. All Calum could focus on was how soft Michael's skin was; how familiar and safe he felt in Calum’s arms as the dark-haired boy peppered Michael's faces with kisses, making the silver-haired boy smile even as another moan was ripped from his cherry-red, kiss-bitten lips.

Calum didn’t feel lost at all anymore; not when he was lying there safe in his boyfriend's arms as they both came down from their highs.

Calum had never seen a perfect person before but Michael was… with his messy hair and clothes strewn everywhere and fluttering eyelashes and sore knuckles and elastic band tangled between his fingers…

God, Michael was the most perfect person Calum had ever seen.

The dark-haired boy got a little bit tearful when Michael finally drew away to grab a washcloth from the bathroom and Calum was ashamed by the tears trickling slowly down his cheeks. He couldn’t understand what was wrong until Michael dropped the cloth on the floor carelessly, closing the gap between them in seconds to draw Calum into his arms.

“Baby?” His voice was soft and comforting but Calum only felt more ridiculous when he realised how badly he was shaking. His cheeks flamed and Michael cuddled him tighter, stroking Calum’s dark curls softly as the younger boy hid his face in Michael’s bare chest.

“I’m scared,” Calum whispered and it almost helped to say the words out loud; it made Calum feel lighter. “I’m scared you’re going to leave me. I know you… I know you won’t… but I… I can’t help it. I’m sorry.” Calum's voice was shaking and he felt so stupid but Michael was still there; still holding him and kissing his hair through the shudders wracking Calum’s narrow frame.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Michael promised and Calum made a small surprised noise when he saw the faint smile tugging at Michael's lips. “Making love is... it's _weird_ , isn't it? Like... how vulnerable you feel... like if that other person leaves, you're going to lose half of yourself.” When Calum nodded slowly, Michael pressed a light kiss to his nose. “But I’m not going to leave, Cal. Not when we know how good we are for each other.”

“There’s a quote about that,” Calum said shakily, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He managed a watery smile and Michael relaxed visibly. “Plato said that, in Greek mythology, it was told that humans were created with four arms and legs, and a head with two faces. Zeus split them into two parts because he was scared of their power and they had to spend the rest of their lives searching for their other halves. But I’ve found you now and… and I’m not going to let you down again. We can finally stay together.”

“Yes, we can,” Michael promised before his eyes glittered teasingly. “Did you just quote Plato to me, Calum?”

“Oh, piss off,” Calum mumbled but he was grinning now, shaking his head wearily as the fondness coloured his expression. “I love you, Michael. This whole situation might be terrifying but I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad we didn’t lose each other.”

“Same here,” Michael breathed and Calum didn’t tease him for being so ineloquent; he couldn’t when he felt the same way. “What you said about this being terrifying though…” Michael bit his lip, clearly weighing the words up carefully before he spoke them out loud. Calum watched him in silence, lacing their fingers together tightly so that they both had something to hold onto.

“Sometimes you don’t have to fall once you’ve taken the leap, Cal,” Michael said gently, and his green eyes might have been sparkling with tears but his hands were so warm and soft against Calum’s. “Sometimes you can _fly_.”

Calum’s heart pounded as he leant forwards to kiss his boyfriend gently.

“You make me feel like I’m flying now,” the dark-haired boy whispered. “You make me forget how hard it is to care about myself. You make me feel okay again, Mikey, and I can never thank you enough for that. Not ever.”

Michael simply hummed, pressing kisses to Calum’s hair as he rubbed his boyfriend’s shoulders comfortingly through the sweatshirt he was still wearing.

After a long moment, Calum realised Michael was singing softly, his words so quiet that Calum could only just make them out when he really strained to listen. It took a long time for the dark-haired boy to identify the song and a pang went through him when he did because he didn’t know what he’d done right to deserve someone as wonderful as Michael.

The older boy’s lips were brushing Calum’s curls as he murmured the words, like he was trying to sing them right into Calum's soul, like that was the only way to make the younger boy understand how much he truly cared for him… like he was trying to make Calum really understand how much the older boy meant what he was saying.

“ _I'll pray that one day you see the only difference between life and dying is one is trying; that's all we're going to do, so try to love me and I'll try to save you._ ” Michael was still stroking his back and Calum calmed as Michael’s gentle words washed over him like the sea. “ _Won't you stay alive? I'll take you on a ride. I will make you believe you are lovely._ ”

Calum thought he was going to love Michael forever, no matter what form the older boy was in: human or hurricane; boy or tempest… but Michael always.

Through it all.

“ _I'm coming clean. God, hit me straight on._ ”

Calum knew now that it didn’t matter how empty or sad he felt because Michael was still with him.

Calum knew he always would be.

“ _Won't you stay alive? I'll take you on a ride. I will make you believe you are lovely._ ” Michael’s voice was almost tearful now and, when he softly whispered the next line, Calum’s heart felt like it was breaking in his chest: “ ** _Don’t be gone_**.”

“I won’t be gone,” Calum whispered, wiping his tears away impatiently on the shoulder of his sweatshirt as he raised Michael’s hands to scatter kisses across his knuckles. “I’m right here and… and that’s how it’s going to stay, okay? We'll be right here together." Calum swallowed past the lump in his throat, smiling up at Michael with stars in his eyes. "I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too,” Michael whispered, drawing his boyfriend into a tighter hug that kept Calum from falling apart.

Wrapped in Michael’s arms now, Calum felt like he was finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought :)


	120. As Plain As Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _“You’ve spent enough time at war with yourself, Calum,” Michael said softly. “You deserve to be happy too.”_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Two updates in two days! (I know… I was shocked too…)  
> I also make a reference to one of my favourite YA books in this chapter… I wonder if anyone will notice it. (Charlotte, don’t disappoint!) :P  
> Also, I didn't even notice we'd hit the 300,000 word mark! That's amazing!  
> You guys are incredible <3333  
> I really hope you all enjoy this as much as I liked writing it <3

**_I met you in the dark; you lit me up._ **

**_You made me feel as though I was enough._ **

_\- Say You Won’t Let Go, James Arthur_

 

Things were easier after that.

The weeks were flitting by like leaves in a storm but Calum had never felt safer. He didn’t care so much what people thought of him anymore and holding Michael’s hand firmly in his own when they went out together was one of his greatest comforts. Calum walked with his back straight and his chin up, and Michael looked just as strong beside him.

They were spending a lot of time down by the pier now that school was over, wandering through the arcades and the little tourist shops, wasting their money on keyrings and photo booth pictures, and anything that made them smile.

Calum had a pin board up in his new bedroom now and it was rapidly being covered with the memories he was building with Michael as Australia raced towards summer. The pin board was a bright colourful point in Calum’s life and he loved looking at it so much; there were terrible selfies of him with his three best friends scattered among the cinema tickets and sweet little drawings from Harry; there was a sweet family picture of Calum with his mum and sister too, so different from the glossy picture they'd had taken back when David had still been there. Calum’s favourite were the photos in the middle though, easily the biggest pictures there and the ones that everything else seemed to have grown from.

One was a photo Ashton had sneakily taken of them a month or so before. Calum and Michael had been leaning against each other on the pier while they peered out over the ocean, Michael’s arm slung lazily around his boyfriend’s waist while Calum brushed a kiss over Michael’s silvery hair. They were both smiling in the picture, unaware that Ashton had stolen Luke’s phone with its superior camera; Calum could see it in his crinkling chocolate brown eyes and the lovely curve of Michael’s pale cheek.

The picture showed just how much they loved each other and Calum looked at it whenever his insides felt fluttery with panic; whenever he started to doubt that he was good enough for Michael. Fortunately those feelings had become more and more infrequent though, and if that picture didn’t help, the one below certainly did.

It was the first photo of Michael and Calum ever taken.

They were five years old, both of them bright and round and shining. Their beaming faces are messy with smeared face paint – Michael was a kitten and Calum was a puppy – and their arms were wrapped warmly around each other. Michael was clutching a half-eaten party ring and Calum’s head was thrown back in the picture as he cackled into the bright blue sky while Michael grinned at him, ruffling his best friend’s curls and sticking his tongue out cheekily at the camera.

 **CalumAndMichael**. Through it all.

Even back then, they’d known deep down that they were going to be together forever.

Calum had loved Michael with his whole heart the moment he truly understood him and that had never changed. He thought it might be the same for Michael too and he saw it sometimes, heavy in those soft looks Michael bestowed upon him when his pale hands stroked comfortingly over Calum’s tanned skin, no flinching because it was Calum and Michael felt safe with him.

That made Calum feel better than anything.

He loved Michael; loved the wonderful feeling of them growing into whatever they were going to become. It felt like stretching in a patch of sunlight, luxurious and safe, and so happy that it filled Calum inside with glowing golden light, made him feel fuzzy and content, like everything was coloured by his love.

It was the most magical feeling in the world and nothing could shake that… not when they walked into Michael’s mother on the street and she stalked past them without looking; not when the pair of them bumped into the school’s football coach in the supermarket once and he literally threw his basket aside to pull Calum into a startling – but definitely welcome – hug that left tears in both of their eyes.

The things that had hurt Calum before didn’t anymore. He still struggled of course – he still had bad days and wanted the ground to swallow him whole – but he was able to talk himself out of those feelings most of the time, and if he wasn’t strong enough then Michael was. They worked well together, content and in love, and that was usually enough to smother the sadness.

Christmas approached quickly that year, and the pair of them spent it with Luke and Ashton on the beach once they’d seen their relatives in the morning. It was a beautiful sunny day but Calum was struggling. He still found it hard to adjust to days that weren’t part of his usual routine and he figured Christmas day definitely fit the bill; it related too much to food and feeling like you _had_ to be happy, and those never sat well with the dark-haired boy.

Before Calum even processed how he was feeling himself, Michael already seemed to know. He fit their hands together perfectly as the pair of them wandered across the beach, the older boy’s dyed hair slightly green from sea water as they left Luke and Ashton behind, splashing each other and shrieking with laughter when the waves crashed into them.

The sun was burning down from high overhead and Michael bumped his shoulder lightly against Calum’s, smiling faintly when he remembered that his boyfriend was wearing one of his t-shirts because it comforted him. Michael’s hair was drying in messy streaks thanks to the salt and he tugged at a lock in distaste when Calum finally let himself look at him.

“I think I might dye this blond soon,” Michael said, glancing over to catch his boyfriend’s reaction and grinning when he saw Calum bite his lip. “Thoughts?”

“If you want to, you should go for it,” Calum said. “You know I’d love you if you dyed your hair twenty different colours at once. Just don't grow a longer emo fringe - otherwise I won't be able to see your beautiful face.” Michael blushed prettily and Calum managed a weak grin that quickly faded. “Sorry I’m being such a wet blanket today. I’ll be okay tomorrow. I just need to get today over with.”

Michael looked disheartened when he heard that and gave the younger boy’s hand a gentle, comforting squeeze.

“You shouldn't write today off already,” Michael chided softly. “It’s barely noon and we have some delightfully congealed sandwiches that we made for lunch, remember? Nothing scary or different – exactly the same as we have at home all the time, only with added sand probably.”

“Idiot,” Calum teased but even that sent a flutter of panic through him and he hated himself for it… for the fact that he’d just worried that there might be extra _calories_ in sand… for the fact that Michael could probably see it on his face, as plain as day.

“Don’t let it beat you, Cal,” Michael said quietly, his green eyes fiery with love and determination. “Don't let it dictate what you can and can't do... how you live your life. You're worth _so_ much more than this. So, _so_ much more. You're amazing and brave, and stronger than I'll probably ever be –”

“Not true,” Calum interjected and he couldn’t stop himself from remembering the night on the bridge; that awful hollow sensation and the agonising loss he felt when Michael hit the cracked tarmac like a broken ragdoll, only to force his eyes open and make Calum promise that he was going to fix this anyway, despite his blood spilling out onto the ground as the life left him.

“You're incredible,” Michael repeated softly but Calum whispered the words right back to him, making Michael’s eyes twinkle with light as well as tears. "Don't let this make you believe that you're worthless." The older boy exhaled shakily but the love in his eyes was undeniable. "I'll keep telling you this forever if I need to, Cal. I really mean it."

“You might have to,” Calum tried to joke but his eyes were damp and the anxiety was tightening his expression. Michael brushed a light kiss over his cheek.

“Then that's what I'll do,” he said calmly, firmly… sounding more like Graham every single day… like he was growing _up_ , as scary as that realisation felt. "I'll tell you how much I adore you forever and ever... because I do, Cally. Always."

“Always,” Calum repeated, his voice little more than a breath, his eyelashes spiky with tears as he wrapped his arms tightly around Michael’s waist and tried to put all the things he couldn’t say into the hug. When Michael kissed his hair and sniffed tearfully, the younger boy thought he understood.

“You’ve spent enough time at war with yourself, Calum,” Michael said softly. “You deserve to be happy too.”

Calum tucked his chin over Michael’s shoulder, his hug becoming gentler and more relaxed as he pressed an absent kiss to the older boy’s shoulder. Michael’s hands settled comfortingly on his hips as Calum focused on calming his breathing, his dark eyes drifting to the sparkling ocean where Ashton and Luke were making memories… to the two gulls wheeling in the breeze overhead, circling each other but never moving too far away.

Calum could hear them calling to one another and it only made him hold Michael tighter, his fingertips shakily tracing the new tattoos the older boy had as he breathed in the comforting scent of him, still there under the smell of the ocean and the sun cream.

Michael was the love of Calum’s life and the dark-haired boy knew that he would never love anyone else like this ever again… but then, that made perfect sense. There was only one Michael after all; only one boy so brittle and beautiful and loving and warm. He was irreplaceable.

Calum was so lucky Michael was his. So, _so_ lucky.

“Want to head to the pier before we turn round and go back?” the dark-haired boy suggested quietly, his eyes drifting towards the far side of the beach where the waves broke around the wooden beams supporting the pier. It would give Ashton and Luke some alone time too, and even now, walking was something that helped Calum feel better. He felt a bit bad for sneaking in more exercise now but he knew Michael hadn’t missed it and he was comforted when the older boy nodded; maybe he knew how raw Calum still felt, even now after so much time.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Michael agreed but the worry bled from his face when he saw Calum slumping with relief. “God, you’re so amazing, Cal. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“You’re telling me,” Calum laughed but it was a surprised sound all the same and it made Michael’s eyes soften.

“You know, I realised something on the drive over here this morning,” the older boy said, seemingly out of nowhere. When Calum looked up at him curiously, Michael gave a little half-shrug and a sheepish smile.

“It occurred to me that, for all of the shit we did to each other last year, we never actually apologised.” Michael’s self-deprecating smile dimmed slightly but he relaxed visibly when Calum squeezed his hand again.

“We were really shitty to each other, weren’t we?” the dark-haired boy said with a sigh. Michael’s lips twitched vaguely.

“We were the worst ever,” he agreed. “We were like two blocked toilets… or constipated people… or both maybe.”

“So basically we were shit,” Calum mumbled but he was smiling crookedly all the same. “Just like I said.”

Michael stuck his tongue out, reminding Calum of that old picture on the pin board, but something sobered in him all the same.

“I’m sorry, Cal,” he said. “For hurting you and making you sad. For all of the times I made you feel like you weren’t good enough. For everything.”

Calum swallowed past the lump in his throat, his eyes wide with surprise. For the first time in a week, his fingers itched for a cigarette.

“I’m sorry too,” he said and his words were choked like he’d already inhaled the smoke. “For the things I said to you. For those times when I ran. For… for all of it, Mikey. Every last word I ever said that wasn’t kind to you… wasn’t what you deserved….”

“But we’re okay now,” Michael murmured quickly before Calum could dissolve into tears. “We’re _better_ than okay. We’re good, Cally. We’re happy and we’re in love, and that’s the way we’re going to stay. I’m sure of it.”

“I’m sure too,” Calum promised and it didn’t shock him to realise that the words were true anymore.

He’d known he was in this for the long haul ever since Michael had woken up in the hospital and told him how he felt.

Everything else was just the puzzle pieces falling into place.

Calum felt better after that, to the point where he was actually able to enjoy the rest of their afternoon together… the four of them against the world, just the way they’d always been.

The sky was gradually creeping towards lilac overhead as the day drew to an end and the water was cool as it lapped around Calum’s calves. Ashton had just been shoved into the water unceremoniously by a giggling Luke and Michael was laughing as he watched the two of them playing together like puppies, splashing each other and grinning, and putting each other in half-hearted headlocks that quickly melted away into hugs and kisses.

Michael’s eyes were alight with amusement and joy when he looked over at Calum, and the look on his face when he saw his boyfriend watching him – t-shirt damp and clinging, dark eyes wide and framed with long lashes – made Calum want to march forwards and pull Michael into a heated kiss right now, regardless of their friends lingering right beside them.

Michael seemed to see it in his gaze and the smirk that curved his mouth almost made Calum whimper when Michael’s tongue darted out to wet his lips.

Goosebumps rose on Calum’s tanned skin and, although he shivered, he also knew Michael had never led him wrong before and Calum trusted him. He thought he always would and he knew now that it was okay to follow Michael into whatever they had become.

Privately, Calum thought he’d follow Michael anywhere.

“Luke, Ash,” Michael called distractedly, with his eyes still locked on his boyfriend. “I think it’s time for me and Cal to go home. You guys wanna give us a lift?”

Calum felt jittery in the car on the way back, seated beside his boyfriend while Ashton carefully navigated the quiet roads and Luke messed around with the radio. Michael’s palm was resting lightly on Calum’s leg, his thumb gently stroking the inside of the younger boy’s thigh as Calum shifted, fighting to ignore it… trying _so_ hard not to get hard that he knew he was failing. When Michael leant over to kiss him, his tongue slipping into Calum’s mouth for the most fleeting taste of things to come, Calum swore his lust tripled.

Michael’s eyes were darker now, his cherry-red lips slightly parted as he tried to keep his breathing even. There was a flush spreading down his throat and Calum knew, without a shadow of doubt, that once they made it back to the house – where luckily, no one else was home – they would be kissing up against the hallway wall in seconds.

Calum’s premonition came true before Ashton’s car had even pulled away. Michael melted under Calum’s attention, his pale hand fisting desperately in the back of Calum's t-shirt when the dark-haired boy's hands slipped down to cup his arse. Michael whined, jerking forwards so that his cock pressed hard and insistent against Calum’s through the shorts they were wearing. A ragged groan tore out of the younger boy and Michael’s smile was wild in the moments before he sucked a claiming kiss into his boyfriend’s collarbone.

“ _Fuck_ , Mikey,” Calum moaned, his head falling back against the wall when he felt the hot swipe of the older boy’s tongue. “You wanna go upstairs before you end up making me cum in the hallway?”

“No,” Michael mumbled, his grin all teeth. “Wanna taste you right now. Sofa, babe. C’mon, c’mon.”

Calum moaned, following him blindly when Michael reached back to snag his boyfriend’s hand. It was cooler and darker in the living room thanks to the curtains being drawn, and Calum felt so safe as he slumped back onto the soft material, pulling Michael down with him.

The silver-haired boy’s eyes were still dark but the love on his face blazed when he pressed a lighter kiss to his boyfriend’s mouth. His cherry-red lips curved upwards and Calum fought against the urge to sink his teeth into them, instead reaching out to smear the pad of his thumb over them, feeling how soft and warm they were.

Michael’s eyelids fluttered and Calum moaned again when Michael took it into his mouth, his tongue toying with it as heat pooled in Calum’s stomach. He wasn’t going to last long at all.

“Such a pretty mouth,” he said roughly and Michael’s eyes glittered when he drew back with a wet sound, ducking his head to scatter kisses down his boyfriend’s throat instead.

“Such a pretty boy,” Michael countered as he crawled down Calum’s body to suck his cock into his mouth.

Calum stopped thinking so much after that.

All he could focus on was the heat of Michael’s mouth and his searching fingers; the flutter of his eyelashes and those _lips_ wrapped tight around him as he coaxed his boyfriend’s orgasm out of him. Calum was already planning how he was going to make Michael cum afterwards and his heart clenched in his chest when he looked down, only to find Michael gazing back up at him, his cheeks hollowed as he moaned around Calum’s cock, like this was getting _him_ off too.

“Love you,” Calum choked out and Michael’s eyes crinkled like he was trying not to smile.

Calum’s heart felt lighter in his chest.

Michael was all he would ever need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to anyone who is still reading! I’d love to hear what you thought <3  
> Also… spoiler alert… there’s way less left than I anticipated. I feel like this story is going to be finished in just over five chapters and, as keen as I was to finally get this story finished, I’m not sure how I feel about it. I think I’m going to miss Tempest a lot.


	121. Silver And Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Calum knew he would probably never be the way he had been before but he felt stronger now too; strong enough to get through anything life threw at him… strong enough to hold Michael up against his chest, arms wrapped safely around him, and fuck him slow and deep as he sucked kisses into the older boy’s pale throat._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, so sorry it's taken me so long to update!  
> I hope you enjoy this though - I had a lot of fun writing it... especially the dumb bit at the end. (I'm fairly certain this was requested too so I hope you liked it!)  
> Enjoy <3

**_All those things I didn't say._ **

**_Wrecking balls inside my brain._ **

**_I will scream them loud tonight._ **

**_Can you hear my voice this time?_ **

_\- Fight Song, Rachel Platten_

 

Michael was happier with Calum now than he had ever been.

He felt like he finally had something worth fighting for and it filled him with what he could only describe as joy. Calum inspired it in him; painted Michael’s world in silver and gold where it had only been tarnished copper before.

Calum made Michael shine brighter.

The older boy felt it in everything he did, no matter how mundane a task. He could scarcely keep the smile off his face on usual days so, during dates with Calum – and sometimes Ashton and Luke too – or their rehearsal sessions with the band, Michael’s grin often felt like it was going to split his face in two.

Maybe it was because of this that bumping into his dad on the street didn’t upset Michael more.

Calum was spending the day with his mother and sister which was why Michael had decided to head into town alone, hoping to visit the music shop and maybe the comic book store before he grabbed some lunch. Things didn’t exactly end up like that though and, before the teenager had even made it into the town centre, he had walked straight into his dad, learning the hard way that walking along with his eyes glued to his phone wasn’t exactly the smartest thing to do in public.

Michael flushed when he looked up into Daryl’s familiar green eyes, taking in the concern warring with the panic there with something that felt a lot like pity. Michael was too young to feel so old but that didn’t change anything. These last few years had taken so much from him.

“You don’t have to look so scared, dad,” Michael said softly and the bitterness in his tone was almost gone now. There was no point holding onto it. “I’m not going to shout at you.”

Daryl swallowed audibly, the relief on his face quickly fading under the weight of his sadness and shame.

“Mikey, I…” Daryl’s throat worked as he gulped, his teeth worrying his lower lip in exactly the same way as his son did when he was feeling anxious. “I missed you… so, _so_ much… and I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

Michael stared at his father in silence for what felt like a long time, remembering that night where his dad had driven his bleeding son to Graham’s and how Michael had spat at him to go to hell. He didn’t feel like that anymore. Daryl was just scared and bone-tired, and weaker than Michael would ever be. At least he had learnt that from his father… how not to let people treat him.

Michael Clifford would be no one’s plaything.

Never again.

“I forgive you,” Michael said, giving an awkward half-shrug like the words _didn’t_ send his heart racing too fast in his chest. He wished Calum was here to hold his hand. He wished Graham could see what Michael was doing for his brother. “You… you did your best. I see that now.”

“That’s more than I deserve,” Daryl murmured, his eyes suspiciously damp. He started to reach for his son but Michael’s expression tightened and Daryl’s hand fell to hang limply between them. There were some things that only time would heal and Michael wasn’t quite there yet. Maybe he would be one day though.

Maybe.

“I was just going to grab a coffee,” Michael lied, although he had to admit that the idea appealed to him. “You want to come with me?”

Daryl’s face brightened and Michael felt a lump rising in his throat that he valiantly fought to swallow.

“I’d like that a lot,” his dad said softly.

It felt strange for the pair of them to sit together again, huddled close at a little table in a bustling café just off the high street. Michael warmed a latte between his hands with an elastic band tangled between his fingers and Daryl watched him with soft, grateful eyes. They talked about how Daryl had moved back home to Karen after Michael had woken up and how the teenager hoped that one day Daryl would be strong enough to leave her for good, and it felt so strange to say those words out loud now… so strange to break the silence that had been poured over them like cement.

Michael fell quiet when he saw the melancholy expression on his father’s face, the pain warring there and twisting his tired mouth into a sad smile. Michael knew Karen must have missed her husband to let him back so easily into her life and Michael hated that Daryl felt like he needed her in order to be okay. He hoped his dad would be strong enough to leave her one day though because he didn’t want to lose _both_ of his parents… not that it felt that way really. Graham was the only parent Michael would ever need.

When the conversation between them turned stilted, they talked about the band instead; about their first show coming up in a few weeks, and about how Michael felt about Calum.

Daryl’s smile was so proud by the time they were ready to leave that Michael’s heart felt too big for his chest.

“Would you like to do this again?” Daryl asked hesitantly but his smile was so broad when Michael bumped his shoulder lightly against his dad’s, the only physical contact he had allowed so far. Michael’s lips twitched and he hung his head for a moment, fighting a smile.

“I’d like that a lot,” he said wryly, repeating his father’s words from earlier. “You know you’d be more than welcome to come round to Gray’s and visit - you know that, right? Don’t leave it so long next time.”

“I won’t, Mike,” Daryl said softly. “I promise.”

Michael wandered home in a daze, pleased that the pair of them had started to mend things but also aware that he would be okay with or without his father. He didn’t need Daryl to feel whole anymore; not when he had Calum and Graham, and Ashton and Luke.

Not when he finally knew how much he was worth.

Michael still looked relieved and happy when Calum finally made it round that night, and it filled the dark-haired boy’s heart with love to see it.

Michael tucked his smile into Calum’s neck when he opened the door and his silver hair was soft when Calum ran his fingers through it gently, content to simply stand there and hold his boyfriend as the night darkened above them.

“I missed you,” Calum mumbled, even though it had only been a day. The first stars were glittering overhead and Michael’s breath was hot against Calum’s skin as he clung to him. “Love you, Mikey.”

“Love you too, Cal,” Michael whispered.

They slipped upstairs quickly that night, barely pausing to say hello to Graham as Michael towed his boyfriend towards his room by the hand, their fingers firmly entwined. Michael looked so soft in his sweats and faded grey t-shirt that it was all Calum could do to shut the door behind them before he enfolded the older boy in his arms.

Michael went limp instantly, falling so perfectly into the headspace where he knew Calum would keep him safe beyond all else. They sank down onto the bed slowly, every movement tentative and careful, and when Michael tucked his head under Calum’s chin and pressed a chaste kiss to the younger boy’s collarbone, any worries Calum had been harbouring following Michael’s text update of his surprise meeting with his father evaporated.

Michael was fine… and Calum would make sure he stayed that way. He owed his boyfriend that much.

“I’m so happy this morning went well,” he said softly, brushing a kiss over Michael’s soft hair. It was still silver at the moment but Michael had asked Calum to help him dye it blond tomorrow and the dark-haired boy was glad of it; that was something they could do together.

Michael’s little hands tightened in the back of his boyfriend’s t-shirt and he hummed contentedly when Calum’s lips brushed his neck. The older boy whined when he felt Calum’s teeth lightly grazing the skin.

“What do you want, babe?” the dark-haired boy whispered and Michael groaned softly, already rolling his lips clumsily against Calum’s thigh. "You wanna make love? Yeah?"

" _Yeah_ ," Michael agreed breathlessly, two spots of colour rising in his cheeks as he took the hem of Calum’s t-shirt hesitantly between his fingertips. “How do you feel about –”

“It’s okay, Mikey,” Calum whispered, pressing a tiny kiss to the corner of the older boy’s mouth before he wriggled out of his shirt. “You too though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Michael repeated, smiling wider now as he struggled out of his clothes. His hair stuck up messily afterwards, silver and soft, framing his pale face in every direction. He wore such an open, trusting expression that Calum couldn’t find it in himself to feel ashamed at his own body being exposed… not when Michael was watching him like that, with his gentle green eyes and sweet smile.

Calum drew Michael into his arms once their clothes were gone, relishing in the miles of pale skin that were now exposed to him. He loved Michael so much like this, with his floppy hair and sparkling eyes; with his thick thighs and soft tummy pressed against Calum’s own.

“I love you so fucking much,” Calum whispered and Michael’s eyes were glittering now, so beautiful that he gave Calum butterflies as he settled down carefully over the older boy, content to kiss him until his boyfriend whined.

“Love you so much too,” Michael promised, his voice breaking when he felt Calum’s hand slip down to rub him teasingly. His hips jerked into Calum’s palm and the dark-haired boy’s dimples creased his cheeks as his smile widened.

He was glad Michael had seen his dad today. It had made his boyfriend stronger; Calum could see it in the resolve hardening Michael's posture as the strength flooded through him. It made Calum feel better too, even despite everything that had happened.

Calum knew he would probably never be the way he had been before but he felt stronger now too; strong enough to get through anything life threw at him… strong enough to hold Michael up against his chest, arms wrapped safely around him, and fuck him slow and deep as he sucked kisses into the older boy’s pale throat.

Michael was arching back into it as best he could, his breath escaping him in broken little whimpers as Calum rocked his hips up steadily, driving his cock deeper and deeper. Calum could hardly breathe with how good it felt, his head falling back to rest on the headboard as a whine escaped him when Michael began to grind his hips down, taking his boyfriend deeper than ever.

“Oh, Mikey, _fuck_ ,” Calum gasped out, moaning brokenly against the older boy’s shoulder as Michael clenched around him, presumably starting to jerk himself off. “So good, babe, _fuck_. So, _so_ good.”

Michael threw his head back with a moan, the desperate expression on his face fading into one of bliss as he climaxed with a choked cry. His muscles fluttering around Calum’s cock dragged him over the edge too and the dark-haired boy’s hips jerked uselessly as he came.

Calum hadn’t even pulled out when the door swung open and Graham walked in on them. The nurse’s eyes bulged comically in his head as Calum reached around Michael frantically for the duvet and Graham’s strangled: “Fucking hell!” was closely followed by slightly hysterical laughter as he covered his eyes up, leaning heavily against the doorframe.

Michael looked like he was going to cry as he hurriedly scrambled out of Calum’s lap, cringing at the wet sound and looking like he was quite tempted to head-butt the wall if the situation didn’t right itself soon. Calum, for his part, simply sat there with the duvet bunched awkwardly over him, wheeze-laughing but oh-so-uncomfortable. Michael still looked mortified and Graham had slipped down onto the carpet in his breathless laughter, and it soon proved contagious because giggles were spilling out of Calum now too, along with the tears running down his cheeks and his hands covered his flaming face in embarrassment. Michael simply watched the pair of them in silence, red-faced and spluttering as he presumably tried to work out if everyone had lost their minds.

"Oh, don't stress, kiddos," Graham said from his place on the carpet, still chuckling weakly although he looked vaguely alarmed at the muscle twitching in his nephew's cheek. “We’ve all been there. Even me.”

“Ew,” Calum muttered, aiming to make Michael laugh, and Graham pulled a mock-offended face and pretended to be wounded which was exactly what the dark-haired boy had hoped for.

“Rude,” Graham smirked.

“But we’re having gay sex,” Michael finally piped up, trying his absolute hardest to make his uncle share their discomfort. He wasn’t doing a very good job though; in Graham’s line of work, he’d seen a lot worse than that. “ _Gay_ sex, Gray. Have you really partaken in that, uncle dearest?” Michael spoke sweetly, even throwing in a wink to finish it off, and Calum snorted in amusement when Graham put his head in his hands again.

“Well, not exactly... although you could stop being such a little shit, mate,” Graham teased. "I was trying to make you feel better about the fact that you just gave me a full frontal."

Michael wailed slightly and Calum cackled, and Graham gave them both a very dignified roll of his amused green eyes.

“I’m ordering takeaway for dinner tonight,” the nurse said calmly as he clambered to his feet and brushed himself down. “You’re more than welcome to come downstairs if you want to help yourselves… although I politely request that you get dressed first.”

Calum was crying with laughter before the nurse had even shut the door and Michael tried _so_ hard to remain stern but it was impossible when Calum was smiling like that, and the giggles escaped the older boy slowly, creeping out of him until Michael’s sides hurt and his face ached from how wide he was grinning.

Calum cupped Michael’s smiling cheeks gently and drew him in for a kiss, and this was just more confirmation that Michael’s heart didn’t feel so empty these days… not when he could feel himself falling even deeper into the younger boy’s sparkling gaze.

Calum was the lighthouse guiding him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading :)  
> Hope you enjoyed it!  
> Please let me know what you think <3  
> We're so, so close to the end now!


	122. Midas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘ _“You okay, Lukey?” Calum asked softly. “You were brilliant out there. So, so good.”_  
>  _“So were you,” Luke croaked tearfully before a watery smile tugged at his lips. “I just… I never really thought we could do this, y'know? I thought I was gonna die in that house. I thought I’d never get to sing."_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, hope you like this!  
> Sorry it's quite short but there isn't much left to write!  
> This is the last proper chapter too - just three little epilogue-type chapters to go!  
> Enjoy <3

**_You make my heart feel like it’s summer,_ **

**_When the rain is pouring down._ **

**_You make my whole world feel so right when it’s wrong._ **

**_That’s how I know you are the one._ **

_\- The One, Kodaline_

 

Their first gig was incredible; the lights and the people and the adrenaline. The crowd was small but it was intimate, the music swelling to fill the small space as Calum’s heart raced in his ribcage. Ashton was drumming like his heart depended on it and the concentration on Michael’s face was ridiculously endearing.

Michael’s friends Charlie and Daniel had come to show their support, and Calum had spotted Aleisha and Ashley lingering at the back for the performance too, only ducking out once they’d made sure Calum had seen their pride.

Luke cried when they got backstage, relief and love and astonishment saturating his expression. Michael had already disappeared to find a drink by this point and Ashton had gone to see his family so it was left to Calum to fold the blond boy up in his arms.

“You okay, Lukey?” he asked softly. “You were brilliant out there. So, so good.”

“So were you,” Luke croaked tearfully before a watery smile tugged at his lips. “I just… I never really thought we could do this, y'know? I thought I was gonna die in that house. I thought I’d never get to sing."

“But you did,” Calum murmured, only hugging Luke tighter. “You did it and you’re going to _keep_ doing it, and everything’s going to be alright.”

“I know,” Luke said softly, his hands shaking a little as he smiled at Calum beneath eyelashes that were spiky with tears. “I believe that now. Do you?”

Calum’s heart fluttered in his chest but he smiled wryly as he gave Luke’s broad shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“I do,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”

Michael reappeared shortly after that, followed by a jubilant Ashton leading his younger siblings and grandparents towards his boyfriend. Luke’s aunt was around somewhere too and Calum left with Michael to go to their own relatives.

It took hours for the excitement to fade from Calum’s veins after the show and he could see it reflected back at him in Michael’s glittering green eyes. Calum’s bass hung familiarly on his back and Michael’s hand was warm in his, the elastic band looped around his wrist the same as always.

Calum felt so content.

The band finally had a chance to go somewhere, he had his mum and his sister beside him, Michael was finally back to the way he’d been health-wise before the accident… and Calum was happy.

He was finally, _finally_ happy.

The feeling didn’t leave, no matter how fragile it felt. Calum kept it sheltered protectively in his chest and it only burnt brighter when Michael brushed kisses over his scars; when Mali took him on long evening walks and Joy hugged him close.

Every show they played – no matter how small – set something alight in Calum’s veins that made him feel more alive than he ever had. Calum _glowed_ with it and his best friends did too because they knew they were finally out of the woods.

Ashton and Luke were happier than ever, and Calum loved Michael so much his heart felt like it was bursting in his chest sometimes, and seeing that reflected back at him in the older boy’s gaze was the most magical feeling Calum could think of.

Even playing their music wasn’t enough to completely silence Calum’s anxieties though. Only Michael could do that.

Calum loved those moments so much; loved burying his hands in Michael’s soft hair as the older boy took Calum’s cock into his mouth and made him forget; loved bending his boyfriend gently over the bed and taking him to pieces with each slow, teasing thrust of his hips; loved the sounds Michael made when Calum called him ‘kitten’ and ‘baby boy’; loved how beautifully Michael reacted to every gentle touch Calum bestowed upon him.

That was how they were now: with Michael twisting the sheets in his fists and the movement of Calum's hips gradually increasing as the lust inside him rippled. The older boy reached for his cock blindly, dripping onto the sheets as he whimpered, and his muscles fluttering around Calum made the heat in the younger boy’s stomach ignite like lightning. The word carved into Calum's thigh was fading into nothingness and his love for Michael was like Midas, turning everything to gold.

“ _Perfect_ ,” Calum gasped out when his vision faded to white as he climaxed, his face buried in the comforting smelling skin of Michael’s neck as he shuddered through his orgasm. The older boy fell apart beneath him with a soft groan but Calum could almost feel Michael’s smile when the older boy turned his head, stretching clumsily to kiss him. “This is perfect.”

After so many years, Calum felt the last of the storm calm inside him.

He had finally found where he was supposed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed it and I'd love to hear what you thought <3  
> Only three updates to go...


	123. Epilogue 1: Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Michael and Calum stayed together, their arms wrapped warmly around each other as the rest of the world broke around them like water._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! The first epilogue is here and I'm a wreck!!!  
> Hope you enjoy this <3333

**_I am not my mistakes and God knows I've made a few._ **

**_I started to question the angels and the answer they gave was you._ **

**_I cannot promise there won't be sadness._ **

**_I wish I could take it from you,_ **

**_But you'll find the courage to face the madness,_ **

**_And sing it because it's true:_ **

**_I love my life._ **

**_I am powerful, I am beautiful, I am free._ **

**_I love my life._ **

**_I am wonderful, I am magical, I am me._ **

_\- Love My Life, Robbie Williams_

 

It was the first show of their own headlining tour overseas and, despite it having taken them three long years to get to this point, it still didn’t feel real to Calum. Part of him hoped it never did.

The swelling roar of the crowd filling his ribcage, the cheers of the fans and the glare of the lights, and the comforting feeling of his bass in his hands… It flooded his veins like love… life… like the very best kind of magic. Calum would never, ever tire of it.

Ashton carried Luke off stage that night, with his muscular arms wrapped safely around the love of his life, and the screams of the fans were _deafening_ as Calum chased after them, a blinding smile on his face as he reached back to snag Michael’s hand once they were in the shadows.

“That was incredible,” Calum breathed as the stars in his eyes overflowed like tears. “ _Mikey_ , I -” The sob took Calum by surprise and his boyfriend’s pale face softened as he drew the younger boy into a tight hug, uncaring of how sweaty they both were.

Crew members hurried down the corridors on either side of them, and Luke and Ashton had already disappeared into their dressing room, but Michael and Calum stayed together, their arms wrapped warmly around each other as the rest of the world broke around them like water.

Michael thumbed Calum’s tears away gently, brushing a butterfly kiss over his soft nose. Calum sniffled slightly pathetically but his dimples were creasing his cheeks and Michael’s joy was infectious.

“You were so amazing,” the older boy whispered, his hair back to its natural golden-brown now as he cradled Calum’s face carefully in his palms. “You were wonderful and amazing, and now everyone else can see it too. I’m so proud of you, Cally.”

“I’m so proud of you too, Mikey,” Calum whispered, reaching down to tangle their fingers together securely. “Let’s go shower and get some food,” he said and it didn’t feel as difficult as it might have done once upon a time. “Then we can go find Ash and Lukey.”

Calum and Michael caught up to the other half of their band on the tour bus in the end. Ashton and Luke were already slumped together on the sofa at the back, and Calum and Michael only had to exchange smirks before they were launching themselves at them. Ashton huffed when Calum’s elbow accidentally knocked all of the air out of his lungs and Luke actually shrieked when Michael began to tickle him mercilessly but, after a few moments of breathless laughter and half-hearted punches, the four of them settled down into a cuddle pile on the sofa.

Calum’s head rested on Ashton’s shoulder and Luke fiddled with Michael’s hair like the older boy was some sort of cat as Michael stretched out across all of their laps, humming contentedly when Calum rubbed comforting shapes into his boyfriend's legs with an absent-minded smile.

“Can’t believe we’re really doing this.” Ashton broke the comforting silence that had settled over them all in a soft voice and the warm look Luke shot him was undeniably fond. “Our own world tour.”

“It’s unreal,” Calum agreed, feeling vaguely stunned as he remembered his dazed tears from earlier. His eyelashes were still spiky with them but everyone had been kind enough not to mention it. “I can’t believe we made it.”

“We got out,” Luke said quietly, his voice awed. “All of us.”

“Together.”

Michael blushed when the word escaped him but nobody teased him for it; on the contrary, it was quite the opposite. Luke petted the older boy’s hair gently and Ashton gave Michael’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, and Calum simply lay his palm on his boyfriend’s hip, letting him know he was still there.

It was enough.

Nobody was leaving.

“We should get some sleep soon,” Ashton said after a few minutes of easy silence, apparently taking his role of ‘oldest in the band’ very seriously. “We can go out drinking and stuff in the next city maybe but I think we just need to get used to this first. I don’t know about you guys but tonight has taken a lot out of me.”

“Me too,” Luke agreed, sleepily blinking his wide blue eyes in the dim lighting of the room. “I can’t wait to get in my bunk.”

“With Ashton,” Michael muttered, winking when Luke scoffed and the curly-haired boy blushed bright red. Apparently Ashton would always be easily embarrassed by his feelings for the blond boy and Calum hoped it never changed; it was ridiculously sweet.

“Stop being mean, Mikey,” the dark-haired boy smiled. “Budge over so we can get up, yeah?” Huffing over-exaggeratedly, Michael rolled onto the floor so that a grinning Ashton and Luke could go into the other room. Michael remained lying on the carpet, his green eyes twinkling as Calum smiled down at him.

“You wanna give me a hand up so we can go snuggle?” Michael asked hopefully and Calum grinned, although he still felt a little too hyper to go to sleep yet.

“I will do,” the younger boy agreed. “But I might go out for a smoke first. I just need to… wind down a bit.” Calum rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly but Michael didn’t seem to be judging him for it. The dark-haired boy barely smoked at all anymore and it was only on rare occasions like these, when Calum was too elated to feel like any of this was actually _real_ , that he felt like he needed the anchor it provided.

“That’s okay, Cally,” Michael promised, accepting his boyfriend’s extended hand and clambering to his feet so that he could plant a kiss on the younger boy’s lips. “See you in a little while, yeah? Try not to get carried away by any fans.”

“I’ll do my best,” Calum grinned but the smile faded a little when he let himself out into the night as his expression became more relaxed. The stars were barely visible with how bright the lights shining from the arena were but Calum didn’t mind. He felt like he could breathe easier out here beneath the moon.

He fumbled a little lighting the cigarette - because it no longer felt so natural to him; something which was actually a relief - but the nicotine gave him the same kick it always did and Calum sighed softly as he sat down on the metal steps of the tour bus heavily.

He eased his mobile out of his pocket and, almost like he had made it happen, his phone rang with an incoming call from his sister. Smiling bemusedly - because it had to be almost three in the morning back home and Mali should have been sleeping in her condition - Calum hit answer and raised the phone to his ear as he inhaled the smoke deeply.

“Mali?” he asked softly. “You okay?”

“Hey, squirt,” she said, her voice as warm and soft as always. There was something slightly strained buried in her tone though and Calum bit his lip worriedly. He hoped everything was okay. “How was the show? Twitter’s going crazy about you guys.”

“It was amazing,” Calum said honestly, shaking his head slowly as an awed smile tugged at his lips. “Are you okay though? You sound a bit…” His voice trailed off awkwardly and he could almost imagine Mali sticking her tongue out at him from thousands of miles away.

“Damn baby brain,” she muttered. “I thought I was being subtle. I was going to lead up to it.”

“Um… lead up to _what_?” Calum asked nervously although the mention of the baby calmed him. He still couldn’t believe Mali and Harry were expecting; that Calum had a niece or nephew on the way. It felt like something out of a dream and the love it sent flooding through his veins made him dizzy.

“Cal...”

Something in Mali’s voice made him freeze and Calum stubbed the cigarette out blindly, holding the smoke in until his throat itched with it... until his lungs _burnt_.

“Is mum okay?” he asked quietly. “Are you and the baby? Is Harry?”

“We’re all fine, squirt, I promise,” she said softly. “Just… I don’t know how you’re going to react. Sit down or something, okay?”

“I am,” Calum murmured but his heart was pounding now. What was going on? Why was she so scared he was going to freak out?

Luckily for him, Mali cut straight to the point.

“Mum got a call from the police tonight,” she said in a carefully-blank voice. “It’s dad, squirt. They said he’s been in a car crash. He’s dead.”

The breath Calum let out felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach as his head spun and he buried his face in the crook of his arm, hunching down over his folded knees. He could still hear Mali talking but he couldn’t process the words anymore under the weight of the overwhelming _freedom_ he could feel roaring sickeningly through him.

It didn’t seem to matter that he hadn’t spoken to his dad in years - not since that night that Calum always tried so hard to forget. David Hood had always been a shadow over him - an eclipse - and… and now he was finally gone.

“Squirt?” Mali’s voice had gone very, _very_ soft. “Are you okay?”

Calum thought about it for a moment, his head reeling.

“I feel sick,” he said quietly. “I feel _sick_ with how relieved I feel.”

Mali’s breath escaped her in what might have been a sob.

“God, me too,” she whispered and Calum was _shaking_ now. “I just… I needed to tell you. I didn’t want you to hear from someone else. Mum’s going to call you tomorrow but… you needed to know.”

“Thank you,” Calum breathed but his teeth were chattering now and he didn’t know why he felt so _shocked_. He hadn’t seen David in years… and now he wouldn’t have to. He would never be hurt by his father again.

“Go to Michael,” Mali said softly. “Go to Mikey, Cal. I love you.”

Calum whispered the words back and did as she said, rising on shaky legs and ending the call with a clumsy stab of his thumb before he slipped the phone back into his pocket, staggering into the dark tour bus. Calum could hear Luke and Ashton’s gentle snores coming from behind the closed curtain of the older boy’s bunk but Michael was still awake. His curtain was pulled back just far enough to show that he was on his phone, his face illuminated with blue light from his Twitter feed, but he put it away when he saw Calum standing there numbly and the sudden shadows made the younger boy feel blind.

Michael’s fingers closed warmly around his wrist and he drew Calum to him in the darkness, helping the younger boy down onto his narrow bunk and easing his shoes off for him. Calum was shaking harder than ever now and Michael wrapped his arms around the younger boy tightly, stroking his boyfriend’s dark curls as Calum clung to him beneath the sheets.

“Heard you talking to Mali,” Michael whispered, brushing a comforting kiss over Calum’s forehead in the dark. “I don’t know what’s happened but…” Michael swallowed audibly, only holding Calum closer when he felt the younger boy’s cold nose brush his throat as he tried to warm it there. “No matter what, Cally, everything will be okay.” Michael kissed his curls and felt relief wash through him when his boyfriend relaxed in his arms. “We can talk about it in the morning.”

Calum took Michael up on his offer and, when he didn’t go to the funeral a few weeks later, no one blamed him.

He went out for ice cream with Michael instead; remembered what his father had said about Calum starving to death and ate almost _viciously_ because, for the first time in a very long time, food finally felt like a celebration… of life... of his love for Michael… of how _alive_ Calum felt.

That was something David had never been able to take away.

Calum shone too brightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3333
> 
> Only 2 updates to go!!!


	124. Epilogue 2: Carry On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _Michael looked up at Calum with a broad grin when the song was finished, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead as his teeth gleamed in the bright lights. His shining green eyes still held the same mischievous light that they’d reflected when they’d met each other in the front garden on that very first day. The only differences now were that Michael's toy cat and his Game Boy had been replaced with a microphone and a guitar._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate update is here and I am an emotional wreck!  
> I'm not ready for this story to be over but I think maybe it's time. They deserve their happy ending.  
> Now I just have to give it to them.
> 
> Fingers crossed you all enjoy this.
> 
> (I cried writing this.)

**_I don’t know how it gets better than this._ **

**_You take my hand and drag me head first,_ **

**_Fearless._ **

_\- Fearless, Taylor Swift_

 

It wasn't the end. Not really.

There would still be follow-up interviews and newspaper articles and the occasional charity show, and maybe they’d even tour again one day. There would still be the friends they had made and all of the incredible places they’d visited around the world. There would still be memories and laughter and tears.

They would still have each other.

That was what Calum was holding on to… but he couldn’t deny that tonight was it.

This was the last official show of their world tour and Calum wasn’t sure he was ready to let go yet.

Running out onto the vast stage with his three best friends that night made a lump rise in his throat but the dark-haired boy battled it valiantly, his chocolate brown eyes sparkling as he gazed out over the audience, taking in the lights from their phones and the excited buzz thousands of people crammed into one place inevitably made.

The energy was incredible, so bright and loud that Calum never wanted to be anywhere else. The screams of the crowd felt like flame filling the dark-haired boy’s chest and the smile on his face almost _hurt_ as the opening riff to She’s Kinda Hot swelled to fill the stadium.

The show was their best ever and not just because it was the last one but because it was so much _fun_. Calum’s sides hurt from laughing at his best friends’ ridiculous antics but he also ached from trying not to cry at their sadder songs. It felt so bittersweet to stand up there one last time, surrounded by some of the people he loved most. It meant more than Calum could put into words... more than _anything_.

They played all of their old fan favourites over the next hour, huge smiles spreading across their faces as the fans belted the lyrics back to them, their voices filling the stadium and Calum’s heart. They brought a fan up onstage too – a gangly black girl named Janet with a mop of vividly dyed red hair and tattoo sleeves – and pretended to bow at her feet when she played an amazing guitar riff from Permanent Vacation. Calum loved that song more than ever tonight because it was a lot like how he felt with his boyfriend: like he was finally in a place where he knew he would always feel loved and appreciated.

They brought another fan onstage later to play the drums and watching Ashton performing Pizza with confidence rippling off him in waves was so wonderful that Calum’s pride threatened to engulf him. Luke whooped loudest of all when the song finished, so utterly in love that he might as well have had a neon sign declaring it to the world… not that Michael and Calum were any better.

When Michael declared that, because it was the last show ever, they were _finally_ going to play Barbie Girl, Calum laughed so much he had to hold himself up on his boyfriend’s arm. His eyes were crinkling with happiness and, when Michael proceeded to badly serenade him in front of thousands of people, the dark-haired boy was laughing so much his heart hurt.

Michael looked up at Calum with a broad grin when the song was finished, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead as his teeth gleamed in the light. His shining green eyes still held the same mischievous light that they’d reflected when they’d met each other in the front garden on that very first day. The only differences now were that Michael's toy cat and his Game Boy had been replaced with a microphone and a guitar.

For just a moment, the fans and the stage, and even Ashton and Luke faded from Calum’s awareness until all he could see was Michael.

The dark-haired boy couldn’t help himself when he surged forwards, his arms flying to wrap around Michael’s shoulders as he kissed the grin from the older boy’s face, their guitars bumping together awkwardly between them. Michael's microphone fell from his unresisting hands as he swept Calum off his feet and the screams of the fans were _deafening_ when the younger boy smiled into the kiss.

“Whoops," Calum mumbled when they finally broke apart. His eyes were shining though and the red rising in his cheeks was matched only by Michael's own blush (and possibly Janet's hair). The crowd was _wild_ now and Calum’s heart was racing faster than it ever had.

“Well, _that_ was unexpected,” Michael grinned, making Calum duck his head and blush even brighter.

The screams were so loud he could feel them in his veins now and the dark-haired boy wanted to worry that this might not look good with management but the band were taking a break anyway, and Calum knew deep down that this was the end.

He didn’t care what anyone had to say about him now.

He was so tired of letting people stamp him under their feet.

He was going to _live_ , damn it.

He wanted to live.

Luke and Ashton’s eyes were wide with shock as they watched the pair of them but, after a quick silent conversation where their own smiles bloomed like flowers, the little peck on the lips they gave each other only sent the audience wilder. Calum had a split-second where he was worried he’d never be able to hear again – _that_ was how badly his ears were ringing – but looking up into Michael’s beautiful eyes as a huge smile slowly began to spread over the older boy's stunned face, Calum thought it might be worth it.

The dark-haired boy often lost coherence drinking in his boyfriend’s face and now was no different. Calum could feel himself tumbling down into those warm emerald eyes and it was only Michael nudging him to quietly tell his boyfriend that it was time to end the show that made the younger boy’s stupor break.

Calum tore himself away from his boyfriend with difficulty, throwing his head back for a moment as the overwhelming love and gratitude flooded through him. He had three of his favourite people here with him and their music had saved them all and _god_ , Calum had never been more thankful. His life had been changed forever.

When Luke yelled: “We have been 5 Seconds Of Summer! Goodnight!” and led them in a run off the stage together, Calum hesitated just before he disappeared from view, reaching into the pocket of his skinny jeans to grab his last plectrum. He tossed it up and down in his hand for a moment, his dark eyes scanning over the fans making up the crowd. Some of them were crying but they were _all_ smiling, and Calum saw his own gratitude reflected back at him. They might all be on different parts of their journey but he knew, so long as they kept fighting, they'd all be okay in the end. They'd make it through.

They just had to carry on.

Calum threw the plectrum into the screaming crowd as far as he could but, despite the smile remaining on his face, the tears started to fall the moment Calum had turned his back on their fans. His shoulders slumped with the weight of the grief he could feel but the gratitude continued to burn brightly in his chest and Calum knew he’d be okay.

His eyes were sparkling with tears when his hands found Michael’s through the darkness backstage and, over the roar of the crowd, Calum’s love overwhelmed him in that moment, burning away any pain and sadness left until – for a few minutes at least – everything was pure and bright and beautiful.

Everything was perfect.

Calum _glowed_ when Michael drew him into a much gentler kiss and in that moment the dark-haired boy knew that, no matter happened, they were going to be so, _so_ happy... because they were **CalumAndMichael**.

Through it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3
> 
> Only one epilogue left to go...  
>  _How did we end up here?_  
>  (Yes, I really did just write that. No, I'm not sorry.)


	125. Epilogue 3: Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' _They would need to grow up even more than they already had but, somehow, Michael thought they’d be just fine._  
>  _They had each other after all._  
>  _What more did they need but love?_ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is here... and I am crying my eyes out.  
> I hope you'll enjoy this.  
> Thank you so much for reading this far. <3

**_I didn't say only ‘til the night time comes._ **

**_No, I didn't say only while we're both still young._ **

**_No, I didn't say only while the music plays._ **

**_I said always._ **

_\- Always, The Veronicas_

 

They drove home from the hospital in silence, only the soft murmuring of the radio breaking the quiet evening as Michael carefully manoeuvred their car through the suburbs. Calum settled back in his seat when the older man reached over to squeeze his knee gently, his dark eyes falling shut for a moment before he glanced towards the backseat again. He’d been doing it so frequently during the twenty minute ride that his neck was starting to hurt now but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop. It didn’t feel _real_.

“Sit properly, Cal,” Michael chided softly, removing his hand to change gear and leaving Calum feeling colder in his absence. “I don’t want you to get hurt if I accidentally drive into a fence or something.”

“You better not with _her_ in the car,” Calum muttered but he was smiling faintly anyway, even as his eyes flickered round once more. “God, this is terrifying, isn’t it? Absolutely  _insane_."

“Only marginally,” Michael agreed but Calum could tell by the older man’s too-wide eyes and the muscle twitching in his cheek that he was more terrified than he was letting on. “This is a much bigger deal than adopting Shadow, isn’t it?”

“Well, Shadow’s a border collie,” Calum pointed out, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from letting his nervous laughter bubble out. “Stella’s a baby.”

“ _Our_ baby,” Michael croaked and, quite abruptly, it became necessary to pull the car over and wipe his eyes surreptitiously with the sleeves of his jumper. The sky was a deep purple outside as the moon began to rise beyond the rooftops and Calum’s eyes were so, _so_ warm that it took the older man’s breath away.

“We’re gonna do great, Mikey,” the dark-haired man murmured and Michael’s trembling stopped. “Stella’s gonna be so happy. We’ll make sure of it, yeah?”

"Okay," Michael promised, and he meant it more than anything. "Yeah."

They made it home in one piece - Michael’s worries of driving into a fence proving unfounded - and Calum’s heart felt so full as he lifted the baby’s carrier carefully out of the car, careful not to jostle her. The woodland that surrounded the quiet seaside town they had made their home almost ten years ago grew right up to their house, the falling leaves dappled in the moonlight as the autumn shifted to winter. Calum marvelled at the beauty of it as Michael guided him towards the front door, the only sounds the wind and the gentle roll of the tide coming in from the ocean, hidden just out of sight.

“It’s so calm tonight,” Michael said with a relieved sigh, glancing around at their quiet neighbourhood as Calum carefully entered the hallway, stepping around fallen shoes and his precariously placed gym bag.

“I’m sure Stella will liven things up once she decides she doesn’t like sleeping through the night,” Calum pointed out, making the older man wince. “It’s a lovely town though - we chose well. It's the perfect place to raise our family.”

“Perfect,” Michael agreed and the word still sent Calum’s heart racing just a little too fast in his chest.

The moment the word had left Michael’s lips, Stella woke with a startled cry which gradually rose in volume until it reached what _might_ have been classed as ear-splitting.

“I’ll make up a bottle,” Michael said, making Calum smile weakly as he knelt to unclasp Stella’s buckles so that he could free her from the carrier she seemed intent to escape from.

“I’ll get her settled in the other room,” the dark-haired man said, rising with the baby cradled in his arms and a tired but determined smile on his face. “Call me if you need any help, babe.”

“Ditto,” Michael said, giving the younger man’s elbow a brief squeeze before he disappeared down the narrow hallway, flicking switches on as he went. Michael could hear Calum murmuring to the baby softly as the older man went to fix Stella her dinner and, after all of the practise sessions Mali had coached the pair of them through in making bottles, it almost felt second nature and gave Michael time to let his thoughts wander.

Their kitchen was small but comforting and the thirty-four year old let out a soft sigh as he leant back against the counter, his lips tugging into a weary smile when Shadow padded out into the kitchen to see him. There were postcards and photo strips stuck on the fridge door, and his green eyes traced them as he knelt to give the dog a brief scratch behind her soft ears. When the golden-haired man rose stiffly to his feet, his eyes alighted on an old picture of him and Calum stuck on their pinboard, half hidden behind the shopping list Calum had been scribbling on in blunt pencil. Michael moved the list aside carefully, taking in how young their faces looked in the photograph as the pair of them clung together, arms wrapped around each other as they beamed at the camera. The picture had been taken during one of Ashton’s _I’m-going-to-be-a-famous-photographer-once-the-band-is-over_ crazes and Michael was glad it had survived two house moves. He loved it so much and he couldn’t wait to add more photos to the house - more photos of their _family_.

Things would have to change of course but that was something the pair of them had discussed together hundreds of times. They couldn’t be so loud anymore - whether that was competitively playing video games or making love - and they’d have to stick to their chores rota instead of whining over it and trying to resort to petty bribery in an effort to get out of washing the dishes. They would need to grow up even more than they already had but, somehow, Michael thought they’d be just fine.

They had each other after all.

What more did they need but love?

When the bottle was done, Michael headed back towards the living room, taking care to keep his footsteps quiet so that he didn’t disturb the baby. Despite visiting her on as many occasions as they’d been able during the adoption process, she’d never been to their home before and he wanted this to be a comfortable place as she grew up into someone who would hopefully be very content.

Michael hesitated in the living room doorway as he took in the sight that greeted him there. Calum was sitting in the rocking chair Joy had given them with a content smile on his face, rocking Stella gently in his arms as she nestled closer to him. Her brown eyes were shut now, her dark lashes fanned out over her cheeks as her black hair stuck up messily around her tiny pink ears.

“ _Train whistle blowing; makes a sleepy noise,_ ” Calum sang softly. “ _Underneath their blankets go all the girls and boys._ ” He looked up as he sang his childhood lullaby, his dark eyes crinkling into a smile when he saw Michael standing there with the bottle in his hands and Shadow sitting dutifully nearby. “ _Rocking, rolling, riding out along the bay, all bound for Morningtown many miles away._ ”

Michael settled down on the arm of the sofa, perched close enough that he could reach out to rest his hand on Calum’s shoulder. The bungalow creaked around them as it settled for the night and the dark-haired man hummed softly as he continued to rock their daughter.

Stella looked so small as she curled up there on Calum’s chest… on Michael’s _husband’s_ chest. Michael loved the pair of them so much it burnt the darkness away until everything was left glowing.

The golden-haired man settled down on the sofa properly as Calum began to sing the next verse and, when Shadow jumped up beside Michael - something which wasn’t strictly allowed - the older man found he couldn’t argue when the dog rested her chin lovingly on his thigh, wiggling her tail in the air when he reached to rub her velvety ears gently.

When Stella’s lullaby faded into silence, the dog huffed as she settled down for the night, and Michael held his husband’s gaze with more love than he could ever remember feeling, taking in Calum’s sleepy but content expression, his long soft eyelashes, his full lips slightly parted as they curled up into a beautiful smile.

Calum’s adoration lit his tanned face like sunlight and Michael knew exactly how his husband felt; he could feel it bleeding through the warmth in his chest, in the easy way he buried his fingers in Shadow’s soft fur and didn’t feel the itch to wash his hands until they bled.

His family had done that for him.

They had helped him heal.

Michael loved his little family so, _so_ much and he knew he always would.

Michael’s world felt so safe and happy now, and it was all thanks to his wonderful husband.

Calum was perfect.

 

_**FIN** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... honestly don't even know where to begin. I guess the start would be a good place.  
> I started writing Maelstrom at the end of 2014 and - for the last 3 years which were, without a doubt, the hardest of my life - I have worked to finish these stories. I've put more of myself into these stories than I have anything else in the world and I hope that shows when you read them. I hope you loved reading these even a fraction of the amount I loved writing them.  
> If these stories helped even one of you feel just the tiniest bit better on a bad day, I'll consider them worth 3 years of my life. Making other people happy is all I've ever wanted but, somewhere along the way, I wanted to make myself happy too... just like Calum and Michael did I suppose. Just like I hope you all want too.  
> I just want to thank you all for reading this far and giving me a chance when, on so many occasions, I almost gave up. That means more to me than I will ever be able to put into words (and now I'm going to go and cry for about ten years).  
> I would love to hear what you thought of this update too so I look forward to reading the comments you leave - one last time, yeah?  
> Thank you for everything <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think and thank you for reading <3


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